Keepsakes
by QuirkyRevelations
Summary: "You…you actually kept it after all this time?" Lovino's face burned a bright crimson. "N-no! Don't get any ideas you jerk! I didn't purposely keep it, I just…happened to not lose it after all this time!" In which Romano 'happens' to not lose the gift Spain had given him after so many centuries. After all, there's no way he'd keep it on purpose... Eventual Spamano, SLASH!
1. Chapter 1

**Ciao Hetalia fans and welcome to my new story! This is my first real venture into the Spamano fandom as well as my first multi-chapter Hetalia story! I'm very excited since I'm writing for one of my favorite Hetalia couples EVER! I hope you enjoy :D**

**General Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia; if I did, I'd have enough money to cosplay (looks longingly at outfits on eBay). I also own nothing recognizable within the story, I am writing this purely for my enjoyment~ Oh yeah, and do you see that rockin' picture I have for my cover image? Yeah...that's not mine either. Trust me, if I could actually draw, I'd be abusing my bragging rights X3**

**Rated T because this is Romano we're talking about and any story with him is automatically rated PG-13 XD**

**One more thing: this story does NOT have pedophilia! Chibi Romano and Spain _aren't_ getting together! It's says EVENTUAL Spamano on the summary so that means that it will happen EVENTUALLY when Romano is, oh I don't know, grown up and not an adorable little kid chibi! Stuff like that's not my thing so I'd like to clarify that now, just in case anyone's confused XP**

**So without further ado, enjoy~ :)**

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><p>"That stupid jerk Spain isn't back yet!" Chibi Romano huffed as he glanced at the calendar hanging in the room. It's been several months since his caretaker set out on a boat to explore the New World on the orders of his King. His mission was to explore the uncharted territory and to bring back any riches, preferably silver since there was talk that other explorers have made their fortune by finding bits of it in mines.<p>

As a result, Romano was left in Spain's ginormous mansion by himself with a few servants to watch out for him, and he was under strict instructions to not wander off and to keep up on his chores.

Like hell he was going to do that.

Chibi Romano defiantly refused to clean up and tried to leave to see his little brother Veneziano a couple of times, only to be stopped by Spain's stupid guards. After numerous attempts of leaving were forcibly halted, Romano resigned himself to doing as he pleased as revenge, not bothering with his duties. Eventually though as time went on, he got bored and actually tried his hand at cleaning…until his clumsiness made things messier and his frustration won out.

Nowadays, he spent his time eating pizza, picking tomatoes from the garden, striving to learn Spanish (not because he wanted to! He just wanted to prove to that jerk Spain that he could actually learn!), and just roaming the halls aimlessly out of worry…_annoyance_ for his caretaker's long absence.

"He should've been back ages ago!" Chibi Romano grouched to the empty room. "Who the hell does he think he is, leaving some helpless little kid in a big house all alone?! I hope he gets attacked by Indians!" The thought of the tomato bastard getting attacked by hostile natives got his little heart to race out of fear and his stomach to twist in an unsettling manner, but he waved it off as indigestion. "Stupid cook doesn't know how to make a real pizza!"

Letting out a little growl, Romano decided that staring at the calendar wasn't going to bring Spain back faster (not that he wanted him back! He's just…he was just that bored, dammit! He needed _someone_ to entertain him!) so he wandered out into the garden. He grabbed a basket and strolled into the vast rows of vivid green fields that held ripe, passionate-red tomatoes.

Little Lovino spent a great deal of time plucking the delicious fruit off of slender vines, his tiny fingers delicately brushing the plants in silent appreciation, and placing them into the basket. Occasionally if one looked especially delectable, he'd eat it and was calmed by the familiarity of its sweet, unique taste. It reminded him of the hellhole he started to view as home, aka Spain's super huge mansion.

A couple of hours passed and Chibi Romano brought back baskets and baskets of tomatoes that could make dozens of jars worth of tomato sauce. After a while, he heard an excited commotion come from within the house and saw servants, gardeners, and guards rush inside, looking surprised yet thrilled.

The boy raised an eyebrow, but shrugged it off. _They're probably happy over something stupid anyways._ He continued grabbing tomatoes for a few minutes until he got the sense that he wasn't alone anymore.

"_Hola_ Romano~"

Lovino froze, dropped his basket of tomatoes, and turned around slowly, unable to believe that he was hearing that familiar voice after missing it (uh…_blissfully_ not hearing it) for several long months. His hazel orbs widened as he took in the sight of Spain standing nearby, wearing his usual conquistador garb and armor that gave off a somewhat commanding, menacing vibe yet completely contrasted with his friendly, vibrant lush-green eyes that gazed at him now.

For a moment the two stood in silence, Romano frozen in utter disbelief, until Spain broke it. He smiled a bit wider and remarked, "Don't I get a hello?" He then approached his henchman and knelt down in front of him. He noted the basket of tomatoes and beamed. "Oh, you're picking tomatoes! I'm so proud of you, _pequeño_!"

Lovino finally snapped out of his daze, and the first thing he could think of doing was glaring at the man before him and punching him in his stupid smiling face. Antonio seemed more surprised by the blow than hurt, and Romano followed it up by a series of small punches against the other's armored chest. "You're back, you stupid jerk! How could you leave me here all alone and not even think about writing to me?! For all I know you could've been hurt or dead or eaten by bears and I wouldn't have known and I would've been stuck here forever! Your stupid guards wouldn't let me out to see my stupid brother so I was trapped in this stupid house doing nothing but wondering where stupid you was and if you found any stupid silver or whatever stupid thing your stupid boss wanted you to get!"

As Chibi Romano rambled on and on about Spain's 'stupidity', the young man looked down at his colony in wonder, and it dawned on him: Romano had been worried about him. The thought warmed his chest, and he let out a hearty little chuckle. That got Lovino to stop flinging out his fists, and he glowered up at his caretaker. "What are you laughing at, bastard?! You think it's funny that you neglected me?! You jerk…hey, hey what do you think you're doing?!" The Italian let out an angry noise as Spain swept the child in his arms and swung him around, hugging him close.

"Oh Romano, you're so cute," Antonio cooed with delight. "I am sorry that I didn't write to you; I was so busy and I figured you wouldn't want to hear from me anyways-"

"I didn't," Lovino immediately declared, folding his little arms over his chest. "I was just wondering if you got killed by Indians after all! If you did, then I wouldn't have to listen to you boss me around anymore! Now put me down, bastard!"

An ecstatic sound emitted from Spain as he gently put the boy down. "I missed you too, _chico_~"

"I never said I missed you, dammit! Where did you get a stupid idea like that?!"

Spain chuckled again and stuffed his hands in his pockets. "Nowhere." His right hand shuffled through his pocket before clutching something. "I brought you something, Romano."

The little Italian narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "It better not be scurvy or fleas or small pox!"

Another warm chuckle vibrated from within the Spaniard's chest. "Oh no, nothing like that, silly~ Here, catch." He pulled out something from his pocket and tossed it to his young charge. The dark bronze-haired boy clumsily caught it and nearly dropped it. He glared when Spain suppressed a laugh rather poorly and glanced down at the object in his hands.

It looked like a rock, yet it had an interesting texture; one of the first things that caught Romano's eye was the faint, barely noticeable scratch that extended about an inch. The object was slightly smaller than his already miniature fist and was somewhat light, probably not even a pound. The rock-like structure was dark grey with specks of dazzling pieces of a lighter grey that sparkled in a certain light.

After staring at it for a few seconds, Romano deemed the rock as dissatisfactory and wrinkled his little nose with distaste. "Why the hell would you bring me back a stupid rock?! We have hundreds out here!" He swept an arm around the garden.

Spain smiled with fondness and replied, "There was no way that I _couldn't_ bring it. When I saw it, I thought of you."

"Are you trying to say that you think of me as a stupid rock?!"

"No, no not at all. Look at it closer—it's no mere rock."

Lovino frowned and glared down at the rock, trying to find anything significant. All that stood out to him was that dumb little scratch and the freckles of unusually shiny grey dots…

His eyes widened. "This is a piece of silver."

Spain beamed with approval. "_Sí_, it is! Very good! I always knew you were smart!"

Romano immediately took offense to that. "What's that supposed to mean?!"

"Nothing, just that you are _muy inteligente_, _mijo_~" When Romano raised an eyebrow in confusion, Spain sighed. "I was hoping you'd learn a bit of Spanish while I was gone, but I also figured I shouldn't get my hopes up too high."

The Italian child flushed with a mixture of anger and embarrassment but decided to let it go (luckily for Spain) in favor of looking down at the small chunk of silver. Though Romano wasn't too familiar with money and riches, he knew well enough that this could be worth a fortune. "Why would you give this to me?"

"Because it reminds me of you, Romano! Silver is very hard to find, but when you do, you learn that it was well worth the search because of how valuable it is. Though to some this piece may not look like much at first glance, if you look at it closer, you discover that it's something truly special. You and this little slab have all that in common, Romano," he leaned forward to press the younger's hands so that his fingers could close around the rock of silver, "never forget that."

For a while, Chibi Romano was speechless. Not once during his time with this jerk has Spain ever said anything especially nice to him like this; sure he was kind and cordial to him, but he never said anything so complimentary and genuine before. Actually, no one's told him something like that before _ever_; comments like that were usually reserved for Veneziano.

Now that he was faced with such loving words, he wasn't sure how to react. So he naturally reacted the only way he knew how. He turned a bright red and got furious. "What the hell do you mean by all that, you creep! You just don't go around telling little kids stuff like that—it's weird! Now out of my way, I'm going to my room so I won't have to see your ugly face! Don't think of following me!" And with that, he picked up the discarded basket of tomatoes and stomped away in a huff, smoke practically coming out of his ears.

Spain watched him go with a smile and quietly laughed. _Believe it or not, I've missed that._

Meanwhile, Romano stormed to his room and flopped himself onto his bed. He inhaled the scent of freshly washed sheets and figured that the maids must've cleaned them recently. After laying there for a while, just wrapping his mind around the fact that Spain had returned safe and sound and embracing it (err…begrudging _accepting_ it, that is), Romano eventually lifted his head up and tried to figure out what the light, ticklish feeling in his stomach was. It couldn't be _happiness_ and _relief_…could it?

…No, it couldn't be because that would mean that Romano actually missed that bastard and was worried for him…which he wasn't!

The chibi child eyed the basket of tomatoes he brought with him. Maybe he was hungry…yeah that had to be it. Little Lovino sat himself up and was about to reach into the basket when something stopped him. He found himself turning his attention to the rock of silver in his hand. He stared down at it and furrowed his brow. That jerk Spain had no idea what he was talking about when he said it was a lot like Romano. He was probably trying to soften him up and guilt him into doing his chores. Lovino growled at the thought. Like hell that was going to work. Stupid tomato bastard.

…Still, that doesn't mean that Chibi Romano couldn't hang onto the chunk for a while…at least until he was old enough to trade it in for money and use it to buy his independence or something. Who knows, it might even give him that edge that will make him richer than Spain someday.

…Yup, _that's_ why he decided to keep it in the end instead of giving into the temptation of tossing it out. Not because he liked it or that he appreciated that Spain was nice enough to think of him and cared enough about him to bring him such a wonderful treasure.

Nope, that definitely wasn't the reason.

* * *

><p><strong>Chibi Romano is so adorable~ I love watching episodes with him and Boss Spain X3<strong>

**Anyways, I hope this wasn't too slow a start. Initially this was supposed to be a one-shot, but then my insatiable appetite for details kicked in and it got longer. This is going to end up about 6-7 chapters, more or less. So yeah, it's going to be a fairly short story. **

**Believe it or not, I got this idea not too long ago when I started my history course in college. We were learning about colonization in the New World (little America and Canada and Mexico!) and of course Spain came up. Then I got to thinking about Hetalia since it's a given for any fan to spazz out in history class once they associate the country with the character in the anime (~^o^)~**

**There's going to be a few more historical references along the way, but not too many. If I happen to get them wrong, don't hesitate to tell me, and I'll fix them~ Thanks for reading and stick around for more :D**

**Translations:**

**Spanish**

**_Hola_-hello**

**_pequeño_-little one**

**_chico_-boy/kid (Spain's using it in a friendly manner, though, not out of disrespect)**

**_Sí_-yes**

**_muy inteligente_-very intelligent/smart**

**_mijo_-my boy (term of endearment among family)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Wow, that first chapter got a great response! Thank you very much to those who favorited, followed, and/or reviewed! Each new email alert I received in my inbox made me grin and left me happy, like 'Russia' happy~**

**...And I mean that in the least eerie way possible (kolkolkol~) :3**

**So here we go, another chapter! Enjoy~**

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><p>Hundreds of years passed and Spain went back and forth to the New World, trying to claim the stumbling, confused little countries before big-eyebrows Britain, creepy France, and his older brother Portugal did. Romano didn't see the point and was often frustrated when his caretaker left. Who else was going to make his breakfast every morning?! The chefs couldn't cook for shit, and at least Spain made food that was edible (no, he didn't think the Spaniard's cooking was delicious).<p>

However, he got used to it and was greeted with a huge, suffocating hug from Antonio every time he returned and was given many stories about the strange new land across the sea (which he may or may not have found interesting…).

Unfortunately, things grew rough and alarmingly critical when France's new leader started causing trouble throughout Europe. Apparently some short douchebag named Napoleon thought he was so tough that he could just waltz into someone's country and try to take it over; initially, he and Spain's monarch were on good terms until that shrimpy little shit decided to be a filthy backstabber, and now the countries were at war.

_That pipsqueak doesn't know who he's dealing with!_ Romano knew that he could easily knock that jerk down with a single punch to his ugly French face…if only Spain didn't keep him hidden away in his mansion 'for safety reasons'. Regardless, as it was, Lovino was forced to watch Antonio leave day after day to speak with his king about strategies and battle plans for this brewing war.

It was only a matter of time before Spain was called into battle, and Chibi Romano found himself dreading it (for some weird reason…maybe it was indigestion he was feeling instead…). Eventually, that day came and the Italian spied on his caretaker as he paced his room, packing some things and picking out weapons to bring. The boy made sure to stay out of the young man's way all day when he rushed around, giving instructions to certain people; instead, he kept to his room and used his time and energy to paint.

Currently, Chibi Romano hovered near the doorway to Spain's room, a bit nervous about what he intended to do. Nevertheless, he mustered up some of his tough Italian spirit and timidly stepped in. "H-Hey, jerk."

Spain startled slightly, turned around, and spotted Romano. He smiled at him, his emerald eyes glimmering. "_Hola_ Romano~ Did you need something?"

Beginning to grow flustered, Lovino started getting a bit pink. Averting his eyes from contact, he looked to the ground in embarrassment and quickly whipped out a rather large, colorful piece of paper from behind his back, wordlessly handing it to Antonio. The Spaniard looked to him with confusion, yet accepted the parchment. He glanced it over and realized it was a painting of his tomato garden.

That simple piece of paper was decorated with delicate strokes of vivid colors ranging from jubilant green to radiant red to calm blue and was masterfully arranged to create the scenery he was well-acquainted with. Each stroke of color was either delicate for the softer shades or intense and vigorous for the louder, more expressive shades. The picture was so lively, moving, brilliant, glowing, extraordinary that it was almost as if Spain were looking outside at his garden now and was close enough to pluck a delicious tomato from one of the vines.

It was stunning.

"So you won't forget what your garden looks like while you're gone." Spain glanced down at his young ward and inwardly smiled at his flustered blush. "When you get back, it's going to be bigger with lots more tomatoes than you've ever seen before…bastard." He practically mumbled that last part as if he just remembered to add it in.

Antonio was in awe of Lovino's display of rarely seen kindness, and he felt warmth spread within his stomach where he had felt hollow only moments ago. He didn't want to leave his beloved home to fight. He hated seeing good soldiers, good men, die all around him; he hated seeing blood and dismembered limbs splayed upon the charred dirt of the battlefield; he hated the sound of gunshots and swords slicing through tender flesh and agonizing shrieks and frantic Spanish prayers and sobbing; he hated war all together.

It was for these reasons and many more that Spain dreaded leaving, and he wished more than anything that he didn't have to go; he'd rather stay and grow tomatoes, eat churros, polish his weapons, practice his cooking, teach Romano Spanish and just look after his adorably stubborn colony in general…

"_Gracias_, Romano~" he said genuinely. "I'll be sure to look at it every night before I sleep, and I vow not to lose it."

"This means nothing you jerk!" The little Italian insisted angrily. "Just…just don't get killed out there, _stupido_!"

"I promise I won't," Spain replied earnestly. "I'll be back before you know it."

"Even then it won't be long enough," Chibi Romano muttered, trying to save face. "Kick France's ass for me, and if you see that Napoleon jerk, kick him in his miniature balls."

"Where you get your mouth from I'll never know," Spain sighed. "I'll see what I can do. Just stay out of trouble while I'm gone."

"Whatever, jerk." Little Lovino rolled his eyes and folded his arms over his chest. "Don't get killed or-or…or else I'll kill you myself...with a spoon!"

Antonio laughed, feeling a lot lighter than he had in days. "¡_Qué cómico, chico_~! Don't worry, you'll still be stuck with me by the end of this~"

"Dammit…" Chibi Romano muttered with (fake) discontent.

"Um, excuse me, sir." Both brunettes looked towards a new voice and noticed a man standing at the doorway. "I apologize for interrupting, but the carriage is ready. It's time to go."

All at once, Spain's somber mood returned, and his entire expression dimmed to a dismal grimace. Romano noticed and frowned, not liking the look on his caretaker; Spain's unhappy face was even uglier than his usual cheerful, overly happy one (yeah, that's it…). The Spanish nation inclined his head in a serious manner and replied, "Of course, I'll be right there. _Gracias_."

"_De nada_." And with that, the man took his leave, and the countries were alone once more. Antonio still wore that much-too serious expression on his face while his emerald orbs swirled with all his internal thoughts.

Little Lovino felt something twist in his chest, and he bitterly mumbled, "Looks like you better get going, jerk."

Spain pursed his lips and inclined his head. "I guess so." Then he gazed down at his henchman and bent down on his knees so that they were eye-level. "Listen Romano, I don't know how long I'll be gone, but you should know the drill by now: do your chores, listen to the guards, practice your Spanish, stay on the premises-"

"I know what to do, bastard!" Chibi Romano snapped. "I've only done this about a thousand times!" He swears that he did _not_ mean to make that last part sound so resentful and unhappily resigned; he was going for exasperation…

Regardless, it made the Spaniard wince apologetically. "I know, and I'm sorry. I'll be back as soon as I can. I'll kick Napoleon's ass for you." He grinned wryly at the thought.

The Italian child firmly nodded. "You'd better…and remember to not die."

"I won't." Spain sighed with reluctant acceptance. "Well then, I should go. _Adiós_, Romano. I'll be back, I promise."

"Y-yeah…" Then without thinking, Lovino suddenly lurched forward before Antonio could stand up and hugged him around the neck. The child heard a sharp yet quiet intake of breath from his caretaker, but soon felt him relax and gently wrap his arms around him, returning the hug. Romano took a moment to savor in hearing Spain's beating heart and feeling the older man's warmth and affection (uh, he means _letting_ the tomato bastard enjoy the hug that Romano is nicely _allowing_ him to have…yeah…).

After a while though, Lovino gave the jerk a final squeeze before hurriedly releasing him and rushing out of the room, flushing with embarrassment. Antonio was mildly surprised by the loss of contact, even more so that it was there in the first place, yet soon found himself wearing a soft smile. Chuckling lightly to himself, Spain stood up and resumed packing.

Once he finished, he glanced at the picture in his hands, smiled just a smidge brighter, and then gently folded it and placed it in his jacket pocket. After all, he wanted to have it as close to him as possible during his time away from home.

{~/~/~}

Several hours later, after a series of good-byes exchanged by Spain and the residents of his mansion, Romano was lying in bed in his room, trying and failing to get to sleep. For some reason, the tomato bastard was on his mind and thoughts of him getting injured or killed in battle haunted him. An explanation as to why plagued him until his head hurt from frustration.

Eventually, it became clear that he wasn't going to get to sleep so Chibi Romano sat up and released an exasperated sigh. _Stupid tomato jerk…stupid France…stupid Napoleon…_ Figuring that a tomato and a glass of warm milk would lull him to sleep, the boy hopped off his bed and silently padded out of his room to find the kitchen.

Despite living with Spain for years, Romano still couldn't quite grasp the enormity of the house and got lost in the endless corridors even then. Currently, he was tip-toeing down the hallway, mindful of the servants sleeping (not that he cared about them or their slumber…he just didn't want to be bothered by them, that's all). After a while of wandering down hallway after hallway, each decorated with vibrant paintings and small tables holding expensive vases, Lovino officially got lost.

Regardless, he found himself standing in front of Spain's bedroom. Not by his own choosing, the path to his caretaker's room was instinctively infused within him, and his little feet often carried him there many a night when he had a nightmare or when those damn squirrels broke into his room and wet his bed. Looking up at the familiar wooden door before him, Romano didn't give it much thought as he let himself in.

The room seemed somewhat empty and devoid of life without Spain's (obnoxiously) cheerful presence occupying it on a daily basis. However, there was this aura of safety and reassurance that drew Chibi Romano deeper into the bedroom. Soon, the child was snuggling under the sheets of the tomato bastard's bed and resting his head on the fluffy pillow where Spain usually laid his curly brunette head.

The bed itself withheld the scent of warm _leche_ with the hint of cinnamon as well as with a mixture of an earthy quality to it that no doubt had a dash of the sun-kissed soil that the young man walked upon each and every day; the fragrant was just so utterly _Spain_ that it managed to soothe Romano without the boy even consciously noticing.

The first night was always the worst and the hardest to get through. Every time Spain left for some reason or another where the possibility of him never coming back was viable, Romano struggled through that first night alone. He didn't know why though since he didn't care for that jerk or anything…obviously!

It _must've_ been some sort of curse due to living with Spain for so long…

Whatever the reason, Romano could never truly sleep through that first night, and he had no doubt that that evening would be any different. Lovino laid there for a moment or two before he reached into his nightgown's pocket and pulled out the rock of silver. He glanced at it in the moonlight shining through the window and watched as its specks glimmered under the glow, the faint scratch fairly noticeable. Sighing out a grumble, Romano clutched the slab close and held it to his chest against his rapidly beating heart.

For reasons unknown to him, holding onto that rock made him feel a bit better and, slowly but surely, he felt his eyelids grow heavy with exhaustion.

_You better come back you jerk…_

{~/~/~}

The first night was always the worst and the hardest to get through. Spain was lying on his back, wrapped in a blanket, and was staring up at the stars decorating the clear nighttime sky. He and a group of soldiers were camped in the middle of a field in god knows where, getting rest before they headed out to battle with the French.

While the others around him were getting rest, Antonio remained awake as his mind raced with so many concerns and anxieties. Though the concept of battle wasn't new to him, he always had trouble sleeping the first night until the busyness and rushed sensations of war got to him and mercifully stopped him from thinking too deeply about things; out there in battle, the only thing he could think was fight, watch your back, and survive.

The Spaniard absentmindedly located Orion's belt within the collection of stars above him and sighed. Battles tended to be pointless, and the reasons behind them were prone to stupidity. Fighting France was going to be difficult, seeing that the two were friends, but there was nothing Spain could do but hope that he didn't run into the nation during battle and that the Frenchman wouldn't take it personally. After all, this wasn't like the Battle of Garigliano where Antonio had a damn good reason for fighting Francis since it involved Romano; without that incentive, this war was going to be agonizingly long and frustrating.

Rolling on his side, Spain glanced over at the other tents where his squad slept. He tried not to think of watching these good men die and how many of them have a family waiting for them to come home. Instead, the brunette focused on who was waiting for him when he got home. He imagined the faces of good friends, neighbors, servants, his grocer, and Romano.

Reminded of his henchman, Spain perked up a bit and pulled out the picture the child painted for him from where it was folded in his pocket. He gazed at the scene and immersed himself in the colors. The young man closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and tried to imagine what his tomato garden actually looked like now: he imagined feeling the warmth of the sun on his face, the cool breeze combing through his tresses, the earthy smell of soil and nature in general, the luscious crimson of the tomatoes, the softness of the dirt beneath his bare feet, the smooth skin of the fruits of the sun when he delicately plucked them from the vines, and the small, soft, subtly hidden smile forming at the corner of Lovino's lips whenever he was out picking tomatoes.

Romano's painting truly captured all those aspects.

Spain smiled as he thought of his beautiful garden and held the picture close to his chest. A welcoming sense of comfort and happiness blossomed within his chest and, for that brief moment, envisioned himself back at home, tending to his beloved tomatoes and to little Romano. Wonderful thoughts like that circled his mind and, before he knew it, Antonio had fallen fast asleep with the picture pressed close to his chest.

_I'll be back home in no time…_

And like every time when he left, Spain did return. It took several long years of fighting, countless letters to Romano (delightfully surprised when he got responses), and falling asleep in the strangest places yet still having that sense of home whenever he looked at Romano's painting, something that he made into a habit every night before bed. All the while, he had no clue that his young charge spent most of his nights in the Spaniard's room, holding onto that slab of silver to help him get to sleep and waking up with it still clutched in his small hands.

When he finally returned home, Antonio greeted Lovino with a hug.

Chibi Romano greeted him with a string of curses and a head-butt.

Ah, it's good to be home.

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><p><strong>The battle referenced in this chapter was the Peninsular War of the Napoleonic Wars from 1807-1814. Apparently France and Spain invaded Portugal until Napoleon backstabbed Spain, despite being allies at the time. If this is inaccurate in any way shape or form, let me know. I'm no history buff (although I'd like to think so after watching Hetalia), and I'm just going off on things I'm learning in my history course as well as from the Internet. <strong>

**Anyways, thanks for coming back and for reading! Have a nice day and watch out for baby turtles who might invade your local restaurant X)**

**Translations:**

**Spanish**

**_Hola_-hello**

**_Gracias_-thank you**

**¡_Qué cómico, chico_~!-How funny, boy/kid! (again, Spain means no disrespect)**

**_De nada_-you're welcome**

**_Adiós_-goodbye**

**_leche_-milk**

**Italian**

**_stupido_-stupid (I had _no_ idea, she said sarcastically XD)**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey look, another chapter...and it's slightly longer~ Sorry for the delay in posting it. While I was editing, I noticed that chapters 2 and 3 had this awkward gap in-between and made the pacing and overall transition feel really rushed. So, I decided to write another chapter to clear it up. Hope you guys like it :)**

**Also, I'd like to give a HUGE thanks to Mighty Agamemnon for giving me some much needed history lessons, which in turn helped a great deal with this chapter! So thank you very much :D And thank you to those who reviewed, favorited, and/or alerted my story! It makes for one happy fanfic writer ^^**

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><p>Life just wasn't fair.<p>

That was literally all Romano could think of as the carriage rambled on the dusty trail leading into Austria. Scattered about within the cushioned interior were a few bags holding some of his things—the rest were tied together in the back. Being grasped tightly in his hands was the chunk of silver that Spain had given him; the Italian was holding the rock so firmly that his knuckles were turning white from the lack of proper blood flow.

He tried not to think of Spain, he tried not to think of how his caretaker…_former_ caretaker looked so utterly defeated, guilty, and weak as he helped Romano with his bags. Lovino hadn't wanted to go, but he had no choice. Spain's people wanted that French Bourbon Philip of Anjou as heir to the Spanish throne, yet in order for it to be so, Spain had to give up many of his colonies to appease bastard countries like Austria, Prussia (_some friend_…), Portugal (_family comes first, my ass_), and Britain since _they_ wanted Archduke Charles instead. Romano couldn't understand why they didn't just mind their own damn business and didn't particularly give a damn if the root of this whole stupid thing was just about a petty power struggle.

So basically, if Philip of Anjou was in, then Romano was out.

The Italian absolutely _loathed_ the idea of going to Austria's place and actually preferred the idea of staying with Spain for the rest of his life.

Not that he wants to, of course, it's just that if he _had_ to choose…he'd rather deal with Spain's stupidity than Austria's. Hell, at least he was used to Spain. Besides, Austria sounded like a dick from Veneziano's letters.

Seeing his younger brother again was a bitter-sweet concept that Romano had yet to wrap his mind around, too busy trying to comprehend that he was most likely never going to live with Spain again; he lamented…uh, he means _celebrated _the thought.

Hours earlier, Romano and Spain had said their good-byes, and the Spaniard had promised that he would do whatever it takes to get him back. Things were looking fairly bleak for the other country so Lovino doubted it. Nevertheless, it hurt when Antonio had given him a long-lasting final hug, and the Italian swore he saw tears glistening behind his eyes.

Romano didn't bother crying as the carriage hustled him away. He was a young teenager just barely entering the stages of puberty; essentially, he was a man, and men didn't cry like a bunch of pansies, they sucked it up. Besides, why would he need to cry anyways? Crying meant that he was sad and that he was already missing the tomato bastard…which he wasn't! Jeez, the only reason he got choked up as he left was because some dirt had gotten into his eyes! Damn that dusty road!

The Southern portion of Italy was jarred from his musings when the carriage stopped and pulled up at a rather impressive-looking mansion, no doubt belonging to Austria. Almost immediately, a couple of servants rushed up to start collecting his bags and two opened the carriage doors for him to exit. Romano raised an eyebrow as he got out, shoved the piece of silver into his pocket, and surveyed the property.

First and foremost, the place was _huge_, just about as big as Spain's even (_not thinking about that jerk…_). From what Romano could tell, there were about four floors and a front yard and back yard. The walls were painted a pearl-white, the roof was sturdy with burgundy shingles, and the doors were made from polished rosewood. The nice curtains hanging at the windows indicated that the interior was just as extravagant as the exterior.

As far as Romano was concerned, Austria had a damn nice house, so why did he want even more power and wealth?

_Greedy son of a bitch…_

"_Fratello_~!" Romano barely had enough time to turn at the sound of that high-pitched, cheerful shout, and he yelped when he was suddenly enveloped in a tight hug, his arms being pinned and his back being crushed by a pair of thin yet surprisingly strong arms.

Lovino emitted a strangled noise when the air was gasped out of him. As he tried to regain himself, Feliciano was happily babbling out a greeting; the older twin barely caught his brother saying something about how he missed him so much and how thrilled he was that his beloved _fratello_ was going to stay with him.

Before North Italy could fully lose himself in listing out the things that he wanted to show him, Romano managed to pry the younger teen off of him and snarled, "Get off me, jerk! I don't need some damn welcoming committee!"

Italy's smile fell and his expression grew dismal. "But _fratello_, I really, really, _really_ wanted to welcome you because it's been so long since I've seen you and even though the letters we send to each other are nice, they're not as nice as hugging you in person and oh Romano, I've missed you so much!" And just like that, his smile was back even brighter than before. "Ve~ I can't wait to give you a tour! You're going to love it here!" With that being said, Veneziano grabbed onto his older brother's sleeve and started dragging him towards the mansion.

Romano grumbled unintelligibly before deciding to just go with it, assuming that it would be easier. Sometime while Feliciano was pointing out random rooms and objects (all of which Lovino could care less for and said as much), Hungary made an appearance and greeted the new arrival. "Hello there, Romano! Welcome! It's so good to see you! You've grown up into such a handsome young man! It's unbelievable!"

The older Italian couldn't help but give her a gruff yet otherwise cordial smile. "Yeah, uh, thanks Miss Hungary."

The woman's smile brightened, and she eagerly clasped his hands. "Oh, you're such a gentleman, but there's no need for any of that 'Miss' stuff; you can just call me Hungary or Elizabeta~" Her cheerful, friendly beam managed to put Romano more at ease, and he found himself grateful for her presence.

As if sensing this, Hungary gently placed a hand on his back and nudged him ahead. "Now come, let's go find Austria so he can say hello as well!" She then glanced over at Italy. "Do you happen to know where he is, dear?"

Feliciano zealously bobbed his head. "Ve~ I think I saw him playing the piano! You should hear him play, _fratello_! Austria's really good!"

Lovino snorted doubtfully, scowled, and muttered, "We'll see about that." Regardless, he let Italy and Hungary lead him down a few hallways before he began to hear the melodious, serene sound of a piano.

Soon, the three stopped at a room and peeked in through the open door as silently as they could. Inside was a rather large, spacious room with nothing more than two couches, a small table, two large windows, a bookcase pressed against the wall, and a sleek, ebony grand piano, Playing on the instrument was Austria who had an expression of deep reverence and solemn passion while his eyes were closed and his fingers were gracefully travelling across the piano keys.

Italy and Hungary automatically became hushed with awe as they watched him play. Romano regarded him with an annoyed frown. Dammit, he was actually pretty good; the Italian wanted to hate Austria for essentially removing him from Spain's place (no, he's not pissed that he left—he's pissed that he's here instead…), yet hearing Roderich play so magnificently gave him one less thing to hate the other man for. At least if the Austrian played horribly, then Romano could mock and insult him for it.

They all listened for a while until the song was over. Then Austria exhaled and turned to the other nations, indicating that he had known they were there the entire time. He allowed Hungary and Italy to shower him with applause (teenaged Romano stubbornly kept his arms folded) before saying, "Thank you for not interrupting. Now, is there something you all need?"

"Ve~ Austria! My _fratello_ is here!" Italy jubilantly exclaimed as he grabbed Romano's arm and enthusiastically shook him. "He finally came and I'm just so happy that he did so I started showing him around and then Miss Hungary joined and then we decided to go looking for you and then we found you playing the piano so beautifully and now that you're done, you can say 'hi' to my brother!"

"Cut that out, jerk!" Lovino snapped as he wrenched his arm away. "And calm down before you have a seizure or something! _Dio_!"

Austria raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Ah yes, I can clearly see that Romano has arrived. About time too, we've been waiting all day. Spain probably had you lolly-gagging to purposely spite me. He should know that I earned you fair and square."

Romano instantly bristled with anger and snarled, "Okay, let's get one thing straight, bastard: you don't own me! I'm not some prize that you and the other jackasses can just try and win to prove whose balls are bigger! I'm a nation too, goddammit, and I sure as hell am not your property!"

Roderich wasn't the least bit deterred by his temper and calmly responded, "Actually, you essentially _are_ since I _did_ gain custody of you." Lovino let out a warning growl that was promptly ignored. "Also, you and I should get some things straight as well: one, while you're here, you are under my command so you are to follow any orders I issue out; two, you are to watch your mouth around here, I simply _refuse_ to hear any vulgarities in my house; three, you're not really a nation, you're a colony; and lastly, don't forget that Spain gave you up so that that unfit French Bourbon Philip of Anjou could have the throne. He knew what was at stake and yet he chose power over you."

…Well now that stung. With each and every word the Austrian spoke, Lovino grew angrier and hated the man just a little bit more. Though the last two things were true (begrudgingly so), the way Austria said them with such contempt and superiority made Romano want to punch him in the face. And the nerve of him to make demands of him and to treat him like an object! That bastard!

The southern portion of Italy did his best to let his anger consume any hurt he felt and tried even harder to ignore the electrifying jolt of betrayal and anguish he experienced as he realized that Spain basically _did_ choose that Philip guy over him, knowing fully well that he would lose his colony regardless. _That stupid tomato bastard probably wanted to get rid of me…_

Romano forced himself back to reality when Hungary spoke up, "Austria! How could you say such things?!" She frowned at the bespectacled country as her eyes swirled with displeasure, disappointment, and disapproval. "That's not very kind of you to say! There's no need for you to be disrespectful like that!"

Roderich kept a blank face as he remarked, "And yet, are any of them any less true?" Elizabeta stiffened while a look of shock crossed her face, and then she flushed. The Austrian shook his head. "Hungary, you and I both know that Romano needs to know exactly why he's here and I need to establish the rules around here. I don't know what Spain had him do, but I doubt they taught the boy any discipline. Besides, he needs a stern talking to."

A distressed, fretful Italy looked anxiously between the three nations. "B-but Austria-"

"But nothing, Italy." He then glanced back at Romano and continued adding fuel to the fire. "You might as well get used to it because the way I see it, you'll be my colony for an innumerable amount of time, possibly even forever. During that time, I expect you to behave yourself. Even before Spain had tried to trade you for your brother, I was and still am fully aware of how…incompetent and negligent you tend to be." He completely disregarded how red with fury Romano was turning. "Although I hope that you have grown out of it, I shouldn't hold my breath. Just to warn you, if you break something or if you neglect to do as you're told, there will be consequences. Understood?"

Lovino was clenching his fists so hard that he was surprised his nails haven't pierced his skin yet. He felt his face burning a bright crimson, and he distantly thought that Spain would've commented on how cute it was and how it made him look like a tomato. It physically hurt to think that he wouldn't be hearing that anymore (uh…it hurt with how much of a _relief_ it was not to hear Spain coo at him for looking like a tomato anymore…that made sense, right?). "Fuck you, you insensitive bastard." His voice was unnervingly calm and steady regardless of the boiling rage he was feeling.

Roderich wrinkled his nose with distaste. "What did I just say about vulgarities? I specifically-"

"Yeah well, I don't particularly give a damn about you or your opinions, bastard! Just because I have to stay with stupid you doesn't mean I have to listen!"

"Actually-"

"Shut up! I don't need to hear any more of your bullshit! You should just take that crap and spew it to someone who cares!"

Austria gave a longsuffering sigh, exasperated. "You ought to _really _take after your brother. He's been working for me for centuries now and knows exactly how to behave. There's a reason Spain wanted to trade you two and why he gave you up now."

Silence—Romano and Austria stared each other down while Hungary and Italy looked nervously between the two, the Italian becoming hysterical to a point of tears brimming in his eyes.

What pissed Lovino off the most was how off-handedly the piano-playing bastard had said that without the slightest hint of remorse, like if he were as easily as stating the day's forecast. He wanted to say something, do something that would surely hurt or offend Austria to a point of eradicating that cold, subtly smug expression off the prick's face. However, any curse or thoughts of breaking one of the fancy vases he saw in the hallway dissipated as the memory of Spain begging Austria to trade him for Italy crashed into him and he felt hollow.

Eventually, he settled on turning around and leaving the room without a word. He ignored his brother's cries of protest and Hungary's coaxes to return and stormed down the halls. With no particular destination in mind, Romano merely roamed the mansion, if anything to try and lose any possible pursuers. After a while, he found himself flinging open a door that led outside to the backyard and was stalking through it.

The weather outside was fair and the sun was shining gloriously upon the beautiful garden, surrounded by a fairly high stone wall, that Romano had stumbled upon. All around him were bushes coated with vivid pink lilies, celestial-white daisies, passionate crimson roses, sunset-orange marigolds, cheerful yellow sunflowers, shy amethyst violets, and so many other flowers with all sorts of names and colors. The grass spread around the area was soft to the touch and cool on a pair of bare feet. Numerous trees of all sizes were scattered about, and there was even a small, stone bridge hovering over a small, cerulean-golden pond settled in the middle of this magnificent garden.

All of this, however, was lost on the infuriated Italian who saw nothing but red as he stomped through the dirt path making its way through the foliage of vibrant green. He didn't stop until he reached a huge oak tree where he irritably plopped down next to it. The young teen took in several deep breaths and released countless hot, angry bouts of air and tried to calm down. The cool shade of the tree helped significantly, and Romano soon found himself able to think clearly.

Austria was a douchebag_, that_ much was certain, yet there wasn't much the Italian could do about it; as far as he was concerned, he had to stay with the bastard for quite possibly the rest of his life. He could either run away or deal with it. Though the idea of ditching this place was tempting, Lovino knew it wasn't such a great idea simply because Austria would most likely send troops after him; besides, he had nowhere else to go. He doubted that that stupid tomato jerk was even an option for him anymore.

Being reminded of Spain brought a sharp wrench of pain in his chest and Romano growled as if to will the pain away. Alright, so he has no choice but to deal with the piano-playing bastard…fucking _great_. Austria was an annoying prick who tended to be a douchy jackass and this recent conversation was an excellent example. The jerk's words resounded in his mind, and Lovino knew that they wouldn't be going away for a while.

_You ought to really take after your brother…There's a reason Spain wanted to trade you two and why he gave you up now._

Goddamn…that hurt the worst. Yet, Romano couldn't fathom why and eventually presumed that maybe because it was true—he wasn't special, he was useless.

On impulse, probably brought on by the subconscious thought of Spain, the Italian reached into his pocket and brought out the chunk of silver and clutched it to his chest, curling a bit into himself. He felt a burning sensation prickle at the back of his eyes, and he squeezed his orbs shut as something wet formed at the corner of them. The young teen hurriedly wiped it away (denying them to be tears) and unconsciously straightened up, getting ahold of himself.

This wasn't the time to be bitching like, well, a bitch. If someone were to see him…

The thought got Romano to fully sit up and put on the strongest, most impenetrable scowl he could muster. Gripping onto the silver rather tightly, the Italian willed himself completely calm and emotionally stable before getting up, stowing away his keepsake, and walking back into the mansion. After wandering the halls for a while, Romano was ultimately tackled to the ground by a teary-eyed, hysterical Veneziano who blubbered on about being worried about him and how Austria didn't mean to be such a 'meany-pants' (_more like an inconsiderate asshole_) and to say such 'hurtful things'.

Once Lovino got Feliciano to stop crying (by yelling at him), the older sibling (begrudgingly) allowed him to finish his tour, if anything to get the younger teen to shut up. And no, he didn't do it to make his brother happy. What a stupid thought…

At some point, they were found by Hungary who insisted that she take them (i.e. Romano) to Austria since he 'has something to say'. They found the bastard reading a book in the mansion's library, looking like if he didn't have a care in the world (jerk…).

As it turns out, Hungary had given him a good scolding and demanded that he apologize. The result was Austria claiming that he 'may have' said things that were 'possibly out of line'—essentially, it wasn't exactly an apology and he hadn't even looked particularly guilty or sorry in any way. Regardless, Romano reluctantly had to accept this 'apology' if not for Hungary and Italy's sake; he had to grip the silver in his pocket though while he said it for the support.

The rest of the day proceeded without further incident; Italy and Hungary did their best to make him feel comfortable and get settled in while servants brought in his stuff. Nevertheless, to Austria, that wasn't an excuse for 'dilly-dallying' and sent him to work right away. The music bastard acted naturally as if nothing happened and actually impassively commented that he scrubbed the kitchen floor 'rather decently'. Lovino guessed that in his own way, Roderich was making up for the things he had said and was trying to praise him.

All in all, the Italian figured that that meant that they were supposed to be cool.

For good measure though, when the Austrian asked for tea, Romano made sure to spit in it.

{~/~/~}

Life just wasn't fair—in fact, it just plain sucked at times.

Spain glared intently at the target a few meters ahead of him and threw a battle axe at it with all his might—a direct hit…a direct hit that managed to split the stuffed doll-thing in half. Antonio snorted, walked over, and wrenched his weapon free. A servant immediately rushed over to clean it up, hurriedly babbling some nonsense about making the perfect shot. The nation ignored him and turned his attention on another target doll, this one stationary for more 'up-close' training. Brandishing his axe, Spain lashed out at the dummy and made quick work of it, letting out an angry, frustrated, vented-up grunt with each strike.

Even after the doll was shredded until it was nothing but cloth and sawdust, Spain didn't stop hacking at it until he felt his fury dissipate ever so slightly; nonetheless, his guilt and frustration still remained, and he knew that nothing had changed. Looking down at the remains of his inanimate 'enemy', Antonio suddenly felt tired and drained and dismissed himself from his workout, dropping his axe on the way out.

A week ago today, his _tomate_ was taken from him. Well, more specifically, Spain was forced to let him go; upon his boss's orders as well as from the pressure of his fellow nations, the brunette had no choice but to relinquish many of his colonies, including Romano, to the other European countries.

He didn't want to agree to this. Though he much preferred Philip of Anjou as heir to the throne, he would've gladly let that Archduke Charles guy take the crown if that meant he got to keep Romano. Nevertheless, most of people wanted Philip, regardless if that meant losing Romano, and Spain was forced to listen to the demands of his people. It was with a heavy heart that he broke the news to his precious colony and it remained in the days to come before the Italian was sent off to Austria.

Ever since then, his home didn't feel so comfortable and familiar; instead of feeling relief and relaxation, he felt empty and purposelessness as he walked through the hallways. The mansion he grew up in just wasn't the same anymore, as if the color and life within it had been sucked out without his knowing. Without Romano stomping and strutting around, being angry about something or another or just breaking something, Spain's home had lost a huge chunk of its soul.

The exhaustion start seeping in deeper and Antonio found himself pushing open the door to a room that wasn't his; all he knew was that it had a bed and that was good enough for him. Nevertheless, the weariness in his eyes wasn't enough to blind him from the fact that he had stumbled into Romano's room (_old_ room, he mentally corrected himself with a grimace).

Spain glanced around with wonder at the familiarity of it all, half-expecting the sheets to be wet with 'squirrel' pee and the place to be messy with dirt, pizza stains, and other unidentifiable grime. Be as that may, the room was spotless from when Romano cleaned it out when packing his things to leave, a sight that was permanently seared in Spain's mind like the mark of a branding iron. There were a few objects and clothes still left behind, however, and the Spaniard wasn't sure to be happy about seeing reminders of Lovino or saddened.

Trudging further into the room, Spain threw himself onto Romano's bed and caught a whiff of his former charge's scent: he smelled of pine needles resting in a pile of fresh, crisp snow—completely new and refreshing. Antonio groaned and turned over to lie on his back, glancing up at the ceiling. He had to fix this, he had to make things right. He promised himself and Lovino that he would do everything he could to bring the young Italian back and he intended to keep it.

But it was so hard. He had to take care of so many things and appease so many people. Moreover, to his boss and people's lament, the country was starting to lose power in Europe. It didn't matter much to Spain anymore, yet it was just one of those times when his opinion was disregarded for the sake of making others happy. Ah, the joys of being a country.

Wanting the suffocating depression to go away, Spain absentmindedly reached into his coat and pulled out a piece of parchment—more specifically, he brought out Romano's picture. He gazed at it for a long while before the tiniest of smiles broke out on his face. Lovino truly had talent. He had been lucky to have the young Italian as his colony…even if he broke some things and never got things cleaned and woke him up practically every morning with a head-butt and cursed him often…

_You know what, let's think of the good things._

Antonio wryly chuckled to himself. _Romano may have been a handful, but I adore him nonetheless. Dios mío, I miss him._ The Spaniard sighed and held up the picture so that it was hovering over him. A smile ghosted over his lips as he recalled when Lovino had given it to him, how his face was all red and how embarrassed he was. So cute~

He had to get Romano back, he promised; besides, life was dull and meaningless without him. Emitting another sigh, Spain mentally ran through ways he could retrieve his _tomate_. It wasn't going to be easy since his country was in disarray, but he had to try—there had to be some way he could do this.

_Urgh! This is so hard! If I had more power, then I'd be strong enough to recover Romano. Maybe if I had places like Sicily or Sardinia again, I'd have the sovereignty to do anything._

Spain raised up his head. _Hold on a minute…_ If he had control of Sicily, then he could get Romano back! _Yes, that's it!_ Spain got so excited that he shot up from the bed. All he had to do was win back Sicily (and other Italian territory wouldn't hurt either) and then things will go back to normal; his house will have life again!

Antonio jumped to his feet, exited the room, and started jogging down the hallways. He had to speak to the king and queen and convince that they _had_ to get back Romano! He figured it'd be synch since their royal highnesses had been complaining about losing their 'possessions' (a word that infuriated Spain and made him sick to his stomach at the thought of Romano being considered an 'object').

Yes, he could do this! He's going to get his grumpy _tomate _back! He was going to take Sicily!

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><p><strong>Ah, Spain's enthusiasm just rocks~<strong>

**I apologize for any OOC-ness in this chapter. I hardly ever write out Italy, Austria, or Hungary for an extended period of time; I often just have them say a couple of lines of dialogue in my Hetalia one-shots or have them mentioned in passing. With that said, I _had_ to rewatch episodes with them~ It was the one time where I didn't mind doing 'research' ;3**

**Anyways, thanks for reading! More to come as soon as possible! :D**

**P.S Hopefully this chapter wasn't too confusing. Basically, if Spain wanted Philip of Anjou as heir to the Spanish throne, then he had to give up some of his European colonies to keep some European countries satisfied. This is known as the "War of the Spanish Succession". You can look it up if you're still confused. Just know that Romano was taken away from Spain to go live with Austria instead. More on that later...**

**Translations:**

**Italian**

**_Fratello_-brother**

**_Dio_!-God!**

**Spanish**

**_tomate_-tomato**

**_Dios mío_-My god**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hello there and welcome back! As usual, thanks for the support of you readers! If I could, I'd send each and every one of you a gift basket based on your favorite Hetalia character :D**

**Rin: Wow, thank you so much for your comments! They left me beaming and all warm and fuzzy inside~ Thanks a lot for your support! I appreciate it :D**

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><p>So…Sicily didn't go quite as planned. In fact, it was a disaster. Everyone had been against him and, to make things worse, Spain lost all his ties with the country of Italy. Essentially, not only did he not get Romano back, but he lost any chance he had at seeing his old colony ever again. He was forbidden from even doing business with either South or North Italy and had absolutely no ties or ownership or control over them anymore.<p>

"Hold still, sir. This might sting." The nurse kneeling before Spain gave him an apologetic smile before she started stitching up the gash on his arm. He winced at the flare of pain and briefly tensed up until he began to relax. After surviving many wars in the centuries he's been alive, Antonio has gotten use to the familiar pain of wounds and has learned to mentally overcome the ache and throbbing and blood and such. Besides, he had already been stitched up three other times already.

Currently, he was sitting on a cot in a medical unit, which was essentially a tent with doctors and nurses scrambling about, and being attended to by a fretful nurse. Being a country had its perks; all the injuries and bodily damages he sustained during this recent war were enough to kill a human, but were already starting to heal themselves. He truly was lucky…so why didn't he feel as such?

Oh right…because he lost the war…horribly. Spain felt like an outcast within Europe since _no one_ had had his back, and he was betrayed by people he considered friends. Worst of all though, he lost his chance at seeing Romano ever again. In all essence, he broke his promise to get his little colony back.

Spain let out a frustrated, infuriated growl, and the nurse frowned, believing her actions to be the cause. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you. I'm almost done." Sure enough, she only took a few more minutes to stitch up his wound before cleaning it up and wrapping it up. "There you go, all done. You're really lucky, you know. Most men in your position wouldn't have been able to sustain as many wounds as you have without having to bleed out. I don't know how you did it, but I guess there's a reason we tend not to question miracles. Just be happy you're alive and that this war is over as far as I know…well, at least that's what I hear anyways."

Antonio couldn't help but snort, unable to quell his foul mood. "Happy…right." At the nurse's bewildered, borderline appalled expression, the Spaniard sighed and inquired in a less bitter manner, "Did they manage to save any of my stuff?"

"A couple of things from what I understand," the nurse responded, blinking away the concern in her eyes. "I can't remember exactly, but I believe your flask was recovered—although I wouldn't drink anything that's in it—and your axe. I know there are others, but I can't recall what."

"What about my coat?" Spain asked with a hopeful gleam in his voice. "Do you know if that was salvaged?"

The woman thought it over and then reflectively nodded. "Yes, I do recall your coat being retrieved. Would you like your stuff now, sir?"

"_Sí, por favor_." The nurse nodded and left to fetch them. Spain watched her go for a moment before rolling his eyes to the ceiling and sighed. All around him, nurses and doctors alike were bustling about, attending to the owners of the sounds of agony, screams of pain, hysterical crying, and other unidentifiable noises that ranged between anguish and panic. The tent reeked of sweat, blood, dirt, bodily oils, medical supplies, urine, and feces with an underlying metallic tinge to it all, and the smell was just about as bad as how disorganized, disorderly, disgusting, and chaotic the place was.

The horrible image that assaulted his vision and the putrid stench did nothing to ease Spain's foul mood, and he averted his eyes to stare at his bandaged wounds. The nurse was right, he was lucky. Antonio had been in the middle of grappling with some British soldier (unfortunately not the _cabrón_ nation himself) when a couple of others had ambushed him from behind and stabbed at him with their swords. Luckily for him though, he managed to fight them off until he got some back-up. Eventually, his injured, weary body was removed off the battlefield and into this medical tent, where he received word that the war was over…and that he lost.

Spain was pulled from his grim thoughts when the nurse returned with his coat folded up with his flask, some other articles of clothing, and his boots resting on top of it. "Here you go, _Señor_. I believe that's everything." As she handed them to him, Antonio noticed that his axe, swords, and daggers were nowhere to be seen. The nurse noticed his quizzical expression and explained, "Your weapons have been placed elsewhere. I'm sorry, but it's the rules around here: no one is allowed to have weapons, just in case. Don't worry though, you can get them back once you're cleared to leave." She gave him a warm, reassuring smile that prompted the upward twitching of the corner of his mouth.

"_Gracias_, _señorita_, I appreciate this."

The woman nodded and said, "Well, I need to get to some of the others around here so you'll have to excuse me. If you need anything though, call for me or any of the others."

"Alright, I will."

"Is there anything else I can do for you before I go? Are you in any pain?"

Spain shook his head. "No, I'm good. Thank you." The nurse inclined her head once more before heading off to help with other patients. Now that he was alone, Antonio let his guard down and allowed his shoulders to slump. Oh if his enemies were to see him now…

They'd have a lot of fun slaughtering him in his weak state, right after they were done laughing at him for looking so helpless and pathetic. Whatever happened to the all-powerful Spanish Empire that every country feared and respected? Spain sighed. Those days were gone now, he couldn't deny that. His armada has been long gone (next time he sees Britain, he's going to strangle him), he lost most of his claim on the New World, and he just lost the war that could've gotten him Romano back.

Fate was just a cruel mistress.

Imagining the betrayal and disappointment on Romano's face made Spain clench his fists and tighten his jaw. No. He can't lose Romano. He just couldn't. The little Italian was too much a part of his world for him to let go. Putting his stuff aside, Spain held tight to his coat and hurriedly, anxiously dug through its pockets. He was soon rewarded when his fingers touched something thin and slightly rough.

The Spaniard breathed out with ease when he lightly grasped onto a sheet of parchment and pulled out Romano's picture. His garden greeted him with its bright, cheerful colors and looked no worse for wear save for a few wrinkles, much to Spain's relief. He had it with him during battle, and he had been worried that it was torn or ruined in some way or another.

Spain let his eyes roam over the picture and a small smile brushed over his lips before it disappeared. He then closed his eyes for a moment before releasing a sigh. The picture gave him the bittersweet thought of his young ex-colony strutting around his mansion with that familiar scowl on his face; the image was enough to make his heart ache. It had hurt when Romano was first taken away from him, but what had kept Spain going was the hope that he could get him back. Now that that chance was officially gone, he felt hollow and true sorrow invaded his senses.

Taking one last glance at the picture, Spain stared at the parchment until something in him was ignited, causing him to sit up straighter. _No. I can't just give up so easily. I may have lost this war, but that doesn't mean I've lost Romano yet. I need to see him…at least one last time!_ Nodding to himself, Antonio attempted to get up before a jolt of pain flared up in his abdomen. His injuries…right.

Letting out a slightly annoyed growl, Spain glanced around the tent and saw his nurse not too far away. He called her over and once she approached, he asked, "Excuse me, Miss, but do you know when I can leave?"

As if knowing he'd ask that at some point, the woman responded, "I'm not entirely sure, sir. You could be here from a few days to a few weeks, depending on how long it takes for your wounds to heal. Until then though, you must stay here and recover."

_Like hell I will. _"And what if I told you that I'm feeling fine right now? Will you allow me to leave?"

Giving him a knowing yet apologetic smile, the nurse replied, "I'm sorry, but that's not my decision to make; we're actually waiting on a couple of doctors to arrive here so that they could handle some of our patients who are in more critical conditions. We need one of them to look you over and give you a clean bill of health. And from what I see, you're not ready to leave yet anyways. You look like you still need to rest and heal." At the look of dismay on Antonio's face, she added, "I understand that you want to leave and you're not the first; many of the soldiers here want to go and see their friends and family, but they need to be treated so that they don't inadvertently cause more damage to themselves. I don't know who's waiting out there for you, but they can afford to wait a little longer…just until you recover properly. I'm sure they'll understand."

Spain clenched his jaw, yet knew that he wasn't going to get anywhere by arguing. So instead, he nodded and put on a bright, fake smile. "Alright, _señorita_, I understand. Thank you for letting me know." He then lay back on the pillows of the cot. "I guess I'll just rest now. Send a doctor over here when you have a chance though." He paused and glanced up at curtains meant to separate him from the people laying other cots around him. "Oh, and could you do me a favor and draw the curtains? I wish to not be disturbed."

"Of course." The nurse offered him one last apologetic smile before adjusting the curtains so that he was blocked out from the rest of the infirmary. Spain listened to her footsteps recede until they faded into the rest of the sounds around him. Almost immediately he hurriedly began to change into the clothes he had been given, slipping on his coat and boots and putting Romano's picture into his pocket.

With that settled, Antonio quickly peeked out the curtains and waited until he was sure no one was watching him so that he could sneak out. He was given a chance when a couple of medics rushed in, carrying a severely wounded soldier. The nurses within the vicinity instantly rushed over to examine him, and Spain sent the man his thanks as well as a silent prayer as he used that moment of distraction to slip out another exit.

_Hang on, Romano. Here I come!_

{~/~/~}

So…living with Austria basically sucked. In fact, Romano could barely stand living there at all. He had to force himself to get up every morning to get started on a boring day of chores, chores, chores, and more chores. The only times he ever got to relax was during mealtimes and bedtime, and it was gradually driving him mad. He had no idea how Veneziano did it for so long, although he figured that it was because that idiot brother of his was too dense and spineless to complain.

Well…it's not like he could really tell Austria off either…but it's not his fault! Austria's regal nature was pretty damn intimidating! You try going up to the aristocratic prick and tell him that you refuse to work so hard while he's looking at you with those disapproving eyes of his! Besides, Feliciano had mentioned that once when he was a child, Roderich had caught him 'lazing about' and had locked him in a dark room for a while to teach him a lesson (that bastard…). Though Lovino's not scared of the dark (he isn't, dammit!), there was no way in hell that he wanted to waste his day locked in a room. Hell no!

So as it was, Romano kept his mouth shut (rather reluctantly) and did his chores stoically and in a rather irritable manner. Austria was initially wary about having him do certain things, fully aware of his natural clumsiness and laziness, yet eventually he found that there were particular tasks that Romano wasn't completely useless in and others that he could (more or less) do right with the proper incentive and with little to no damage.

Lovino didn't especially care if he knocked over or broke any of the piano bastard's possessions (he sometimes did it on purpose), but he hated the consequences that followed (boring-ass lectures, instructions on how to do something properly, no supper for the day, etc.). So for the most part, Romano did his best he could on his chores yet did so as slowly as possible so that he had less to do for the day. Also, when he could, he'd sneak off and shirk on the duties he particularly didn't want to do, and then made an excuse about how he was doing something else instead (emphasizing that that 'something else' was "very" important).

In fact, he was currently doing that now. After being told to wash all the windows of the mansion, Romano instead chose to creep outside and sit under a tree in the garden, the same one he had actually ran to on his first day, and was presently watching a small group of wild geese floating on the tiny pond, kicking about. He enjoyed the peace and was absentmindedly tossing his piece of silver from one hand to the other. He relished moments like this where he didn't have to worry about Austria breathing down his back, Italy and Hungary fussing over him like he was some little kid, or the occasional times when France and Prussia came over for international affairs and bothered him (France was always asking him inappropriate questions and getting in his personal space while Prussia just…bugged him by being his stupid self).

Putting the chunk of silver away, Romano breathed in the cool, fresh air and briefly closed his hazel eyes to listen to the gentle whispering of the wind breezing through the trees, the soft splashes of water, the periodic squawks of the geese, and the other pure, genuine sounds that only nature could sing. He had to hand it to the Austrian bastard; that douche might be a dickhead, but his garden was beautiful.

He still can't stand that piano-playing son of a bitch though.

Well…if Romano had to be completely honest with himself, he supposed living here wasn't all that bad. For one thing, he was finally reunited with his brother (even if Veneziano could be a pain in the ass at times…). Also, Hungary wasn't too bad, and Romano appreciated her watching out for him and taking the time to talk to him and check up on him. Moreover, despite that pervy France and weirdo Prussia gave him the creeps, it was funny watching them mess with Austria; the prick was always flabbergasted whenever France flirted with him and pissy whenever Prussia annoyed and insulted him, but the best part was Hungary smacking the both of them with a frying pan.

So all in all, he supposes he's gotten used to his new life.

The Italian was yanked from his musings by the sound of leaves rustling as well as what seemed to be grunts of exertion form the other side of the stone wall nearby; it was almost as if someone was trying to get over the wall…

Lovino stiffened and his heart began to race. _What the hell is that?! Are we being invaded?!_ Horrified by the thought of some menacing-looking enemy (which strangely had the face of the Ottoman Empire) climbing over to the wall to sneak in, Romano immediately bit back a very unmanly shriek and was wondering how long it would take for him to run back to the mansion and raise holy hell before the unknown assailant could get the jump on them.

However, he didn't get a chance to find out when said unknown assailant finally scaled the wall and reached the top…only to lose his grip and clamber over, letting out a startled cry and hitting the ground with a loud THUMP! Romano emitted a quick scream and stumbled back before he got a good look at the invader. Almost immediately his posture loosened and his expression morphed from fear to confusion to finally settling on anger. "What the hell are you doing here, bastard?!"

Spain released a groan of pain before lifting up his head. Once he spotted the Italian, he instantly beamed with delight and shot up. "Romano~!" And with that, he rushed over and enveloped his ex-colony in a tight, relieved hug. Lovino squeaked and stiffened before melting (uh he means, _being forced_) into the embrace (which he did _not_ enjoy…he didn't!).

Eventually, Romano pulled away and glared at the ground. "O-Okay, that's enough…jerk."

Spain brightly smiled at him and exclaimed, "I can't believe it's you! I hardly recognize you! You've gotten so big and so tall and so handsome! Where have the years gone?! You are practically a man now!"

God, that cheerful disposition of him sent a jolt of nostalgia through Lovino. He attempted to hide it by deepening the furrow of his brow and folding his arms over his chest. "Practically a man? I _am_ a man, goddammit!" He pouted when the Spaniard chuckled. "Why the hell are you even trying to sneak in here anyways?! Don't you know that Austria will send his guards on your ass if he catches you here?!"

Antonio sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. "_Sí_, I know, but I had to come here. _Es muy importante_. I came here for you."

Romano's eyes widened for a moment before narrowing back down to a scowl, and he snorted. "For me? What are you going on about?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Spain tilted his head in confusion. "I came here because I had to see you. My plan was to sneak in and try and find you myself, but luck would have it that I run into you now! That makes things just so much easier!" He happily beamed for a moment before his smile dimmed. "Romano, we need to talk."

The Southern portion of Italy was initially speechless until he managed to regain himself. "What about, bastard?"

Spain sighed and glanced around the garden. "Before I say anything though, will we be safe here? Like will anyone interrupt?"

Romano shrugged. "I doubt it. No one ever really comes out here other than me and the gardener so we should be fine."

Nodding in relief, Antonio gestured over to the tree and proposed, "Shall we sit?"

Shrugging again, Lovino plopped down in his original spot while his companion took a seat next to him. The two sat in silence until Spain eventually spoke up. "Well, first things first, how are you, Roma? It's been so long since I've seen you. Are you enjoying yourself here?"

The Italian scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Enjoying myself? Please. Austria's a dick." At Spain's startled, concerned expression, Romano added, "But I'm fine…stop making that pouty face, jerk, you're making my stomach sick!"

Spain let out a small laugh to release the sense of unease he had just been experiencing. "Okay, I guess that's not all bad. I know what you mean though. Austria is very tough to get along with." _Now that's an understatement,_ Romano thought. "But I guess that's why Prussia loves bugging him so much~ Anyways, I'm sorry to hear that you're not really happy here. And…" he paused as his expression grew dismal and guilty, "…and I'm sorry that you're even here in the first place. Trust me, it was never my intention to lose you."

Romano felt something wrench within his chest from both his former caretaker's sadness and the sudden jolt of homesickness that struck him. Regardless, he refused to let it show so he maintained his glare. "Yeah sure, whatever."

"I mean it, Romano, I am truly most sincerely sorry for everything. I should've done more to make sure that you weren't taken away from me. I should've told my boss that Archduke Charles should just keep the throne, it didn't matter much to me. I should've been stronger so that I would've won this war. Oh, there are just so many things I should've done. I should've-"

"Get to the point, _idiota_!" the Italian snapped in annoyance. "I don't need to hear you feeling sorry for yourself! It's annoying!"

"Sorry Roma. It's just that…" he sighed and then gently placed his hands on Romano's shoulders, "life has been empty without you, _mijo_. I miss you."

Lovino's breath caught. Spain actually missed him? _But…but he let me go. He didn't care enough about me to keep me…_ Not wanting to be fooled (because being fooled by the tomato bastard of all people was insulting and just sad…certainly _not _heartbreaking…), the Italian strengthened his resolve. "Doesn't seem like that to me."

Spain actually flinched back as if electrocuted. "¿_Qué_? What do you mean by that?!"

"Don't play dumb, stupid, you're dense enough as it is without you having to fake it. You say that you miss me, but I'm sure you wanted to get rid of me the first chance you got. You did it once when you tried to trade me for Feliciano so why should this time be any different?" Dammit, why does he sound more bitter than annoyed?

"No Romano!" Lovino was startled by the intensity of Antonio's voice. "You cannot believe that! I refuse to let you! I regret letting the other countries take you from me about a thousand times and even infinitely more so when I attempted to trade you and your brother! I will never forgive myself for either of those acts, but you need to understand that I care for you very deeply and that I'd do anything for you! You don't know how hard I fought in this war just to earn a chance to get you back!"

All of a sudden, the intense passion within Spain's voice diminished until he was left timid, unsure, and remorseful. "But I guess it wasn't enough because I've lost you forever, I've broken my promise. Romano…I am so sorry for all the pain I am sure I have caused you. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me someday." The Spaniard hung his head low, and the light in his lush-green orbs dulled like the lead on a frequently-used pencil.

For a moment, Lovino didn't know what to say. Seeing Antonio like this, so weary and broken up, brought him back to the day he had to leave for Austria's place. If Romano really set his mind to it, he couldn't recall the last time he had seen Spain so despondent; even when he lost wars or colonies to other countries, the older man always had a smile on his face and a phrase that went along the lines of 'oh well, I'll get them next time~'

This sense of hopelessness and despair wasn't meant to touch upon Spain, let alone linger and make itself at home.

Romano blinked hard a couple of times and then turned his scowling gaze over to the pond. "There's no need to get dramatic, you bastard. There's nothing to be sorry for."

Spain's eyes widened as he looked to his former charge with disbelief. "¿_Qué_?"

Growing increasingly flustered, Romano couldn't stop his cheeks from blazing a fierce red. "Don't make me spell it out for you, _bastardo_! I can't forgive you if there's nothing to be sorry for in the first place! I get what it's like to submit to the whims of your people so stop with your sulking and let it go! I'm used to living with douchebag Austria and there's nothing I can do about it…but I don't blame you!" There, he said it. Though Romano wanted to blame Spain and curse him for his misfortunes, he knew deep down that he couldn't (frustratingly enough). "Now go back to being your stupid happy self! This new side of you is weird and dumb as hell!"

By now, the Italian's face was burning even in the coolness of the tree's shade and he kept his eyes on the pond. Oh would you look at that…two of the geese seem to be flirting with one another.

"Lovi…" Romano stiffened ever so slightly and jerked his head to look at Spain at the sudden nickname. Then without warning, the older nation had pulled him in for a hug, burrowing his head in the Italian's slim neck. "Thank you. I needed to hear that."

The only reason Romano let Spain hug him for so long was because he figured that the tomato bastard needed it and because he was too in shock to pull away. No, it wasn't because he liked being hugged by Spain…hell no! Eventually though, Lovino's flustered thoughts gave way to reality when he finally perceived Antonio's locks brushing against his neck. Fighting back a shudder at the ticklish sensation, Romano growled and pushed his former caretaker off of him, keeping him at arm's length. "Stop that, you jerk! I already told you that I am a man now and men don't hug! Hugging's for sissies!"

Spain lightly chuckled with an odd mixture of fondness and sheepishness. "Haha, sorry about that. I guess I just needed a little 'tough love'. I haven't had it in a while since you're not around to give it to me anymore." The offhand comment made his smile falter before it sprang back up. "I'm glad though that there are no hard feelings between us. I would never forgive myself if you hated me…though I wouldn't blame you."

Lovino rolled his eyes. "Whatever bastard, I don't hate you…yet!" he quickly added to save face. After all, he had a reputation to uphold! "So stop with the sappiness! I've had enough of it for one day!"

"_Lo siento_, I'll stop now." Antonio's smile regained its familiar glow as he pulled the younger man in for one last hug. Before Romano could push him away, however, Spain winced and flinched away, pressing a hand to his side. "¡_Hijo de puta_! Damn that still hurts!"

Concern flashed through Romano (though he had no idea why…) as he automatically examined the Spaniard. "What the hell is your problem?"

Spain looked to him with an embarrassed smile. "Oh nothing, I'm just a bit injured from the war. They are just a couple of scratches and bruises though—nothing to worry about."

Romano raised an eyebrow and sarcastically remarked, "Right, and Netherlands _doesn't _hate your guts to a point where he can't stand to eat waffles in the same room as you. Don't you pull this pansy 'I won't make a big deal out of this so I won't worry Romano' shit! I'm not a little kid anymore, just give it to me straight: how badly are you hurt?"

Avoiding the question, Spain playfully quipped, "Oh Romano, it almost sounds like you care about Boss~"

For some reason, that statement caused Romano's traitorous face to blush a bright tomato-red. "I…I don't, you jerk! I-I just…I just want to know so I can know where to hit you the next time you try to hug me without my permission! It'll sure hurt like hell if I punch you where you got stabbed or something!" His stomach twisted at the thought of a sword ramming through Spain and spewing out torrents of blood.

Oblivious to the other's thoughts, Antonio chuckled and said, "I'm sure it would hurt. But seriously though, I'm okay. I'm a nation, remember? I heal quicker. I just need to rest a little longer, that's all; I'm actually supposed to be doing that now instead of sitting here and talking with you."

"What?!" Lovino angrily and incredulously exclaimed. "You mean to tell me that you should be in bed right now, but instead you're up and about and being stupid?!"

Spain actually pondered that before he shrugged. "I guess so."

Romano glared at him for a moment until he slowly shook his head. "Unbelievable…you dumb ass."

"But Lovi, this was important! I had to come and see you or else I might never get the chance to ever again! It's possible that I might never see you again after this!"

The possibility horrified both nations (which Romano mentally denied and dismissed it as his hormones fucking with him…stupid puberty) and the Southern portion of Italy promptly shoved that feeling aside and twisted it into a quick flare of his temper. "What did I just say about being dramatic?! Even if you're not my boss anymore it's not like we'll never see each other again! _Dio_, I'm sure we'll find _some_ way to talk again!" Realizing what he just said, Romano's face immediately bloomed into a dark shade of red as he hurriedly amended, "I-I mean, I'm sure you'll find a way to hunt me down and bore me with all your damn talking!"

Spain stared at his ex-colony before a small smile quirked at his lips. "Are you alright, Romano? Your face is all red~" He chuckled when the Italian stuttered out an incoherent excuse that was mixed in with some curses. "You're right though; even after I leave today, we'll see each other again, I'll make sure of it. I mean, just look at us now! I snuck over that wall just to see you!"

The only thing Lovino could say to regain his dignity was to mutter, "_Idiota_."

Antonio only lightly laughed at that. Soon, the two lapsed into a companionable silence as they were left to their own thoughts. After a while, Spain voiced a question that sporadically came to mind. "So, does this mean we're friends?"

Romano started and gaped at him. "What the…'friends'?! Where the hell would you get a stupid idea like that?!"

_I never said I missed you, dammit! Where did you get a stupid idea like that?!_ Ah, it seems like some things never change.

"Well, for a while you were my henchman and I was more like your guardian, but now that you're older, we're more like equals now. Besides, you don't work for Boss Spain anymore so it'd be weird for me to think of you as a subordinate. And yet, we get along better than a henchman and boss would anyways, so that must mean we're friends!" Spain perked up at the thought.

Romano spluttered out his protests before settling with an angry, "Your logic is bull and you don't know shit! How can you say we're friends when I can barely tolerate you?! You're like an annoying fly or a rat or a German!"

"Haha, oh you're funny, Roma~ I'll admit I've missed this."

"Missed what? You annoying the holy hell out of me?"

"No, I've missed just you in general and your…colorful personality. My mansion _es muy tranquilo_ without you."

Romano snorted with disbelief. "I somehow doubt that with your stupid incessant talking and your stupid guards stomping about and your stupid maids fussing over the place and all those stupid people you did business with, including your stupid friends who always got drunk."

Almost instantly, Spain's smile faded and he glanced wistfully to the side. "France and Prussia…right. I wonder if we're even friends anymore." It was like the older brunette was voicing his thoughts aloud rather than speaking to Romano directly. "They…fought against me and I fought them too. I'd like to think they had to because of their bosses, but…but what if they fought me because they don't like me anymore? _Oi vey_…" He slumped forward and wearily rested his head in his hands.

"I always knew those two were dickheads," Lovino muttered to himself. However, catching sight of Antonio's sour, dismal expression made the young teen blow out a breath of frustration. Seeing the former conquistador like this was just pathetic so the Italian felt _obligated_ to say, "Stop sulking, dammit! Once this whole thing blows over, I'm sure the fuckface and albino bastard will be back at your place, scarring all the decent folk within the vicinity with their dumb ass ways!"

Despite the rather blunt and crude wording of the other's 'comfort', Spain actually seemed somewhat heartened and soothed by what he had to say. "You really think so, Romano?" The Italian addressed blinked at him and contemplated banging his head against the tree. _He actually sounds happy about staying friends with those losers. Ugh, it never fails to amaze me what does and doesn't get past this guy…_

Keeping his thoughts to himself, however, Romano could only roll his shoulder in a lazy shrug, and Spain was suddenly all smiles again. "Oh _gracias_, _chico_! I'm glad you think so! This entire war has been really hard for a number of reasons, but a lot has to do with me, France, and Prussia fighting each other! Jeez, our bosses make us do the meanest things sometimes!" He shook his head as if silently berating his king, and Lovino made a light grunt, preparing himself for another one of Spain's rambling chats.

"But you're right, things will be back to normal in no time! It'll be just like any other war with the other nations: we all fight, we get angry at each other, the war ends and then we're all cool. Sure, there are some hard feelings sometimes, but they go away eventually and it's not like we all end up hating each other forever. Heck, can you imagine, Romano? I don't know what I'd do if I lost my _amigos_."

His chuckle was immediately cut off as something struck him. He then whipped his head towards his companion and South Italy nearly flinched back from the intensity of his forest-green orbs. "Romano, no matter what happens, no matter what wars plague the world and what the other countries do to one another, you will always be my friend and I will always care about you. Even if our countries were at war, I'd throw down my axe and refuse to fight you."

South Italy rolled his eyes. "You're being dramatic again."

"Nevertheless, please…just remember that for me, will you?"

Romano paused at the seriousness in his tone, briefly flashing back to when the Spaniard had given him the chunk of silver currently resting in his pocket, and then reluctantly nodded, not saying a word. It was more than enough for Spain who produces a relieved smile. "_Gracias, mijo_~ That means everything to me."

"Yeah, whatever. Just…just shut up about it."

Antonio let out a hearty laugh, lightening up the soberly earnest mood, and responded, "Sure thing, if that's what you want~ Oh Lovi, I'm so excited that we're friends! We'll send each other letters, we'll eat tomatoes again, maybe I'll try and teach you Spanish, we'll pull pranks on Austria, and the best part is we'll be all hush-hush about it…we'll be like secret best friends!"

"Don't get ahead of yourself, tomato bastard! I barely even agree with this shit…and there's no way in hell I'm learning Spanish again! The words are all wrong!"

The rest of the afternoon went on like this, with Spain being his usual bubbly, giddy self and Romano snapping at him. The routine was so familiar to them that they didn't consciously notice, yet deep down something new stirred inside each of them: it dawned on Spain that Romano wasn't the same child that he had been raising and ultimately realized that the Italian was growing up and, therefore, his perception on the teen should be altered ever so slightly; Romano came to understand and ('begrudgingly') accept that Spain actually cared for him and an unfamiliar warmth bloomed within his chest at the thought of being able to count on the older man to be there for him.

The circumstances that left the two where they currently were had triggered a chain reaction that they had yet to see but somehow sensed. Much like how wildlife can perceive the subtle changes in nature without needing the proof of snow for the start of winter or the colorful changing of leaves to indicate the beginning of autumn, Spain and Romano knew then and there that their kinship was blossoming into something different, unique, and more extraordinary than what they were used to, and the thought stuck with them even when Antonio had to go.

From that point on, everything changed.

* * *

><p><strong>Alright, another chapter down! This one officially closes the awkward gap that I mentioned in the last chapter so now we're back on track! Basically, if I hadn't have added chapters 3 and 4, the next chapter would've been the 3rd rather than the 5th. When you think about it, the transition would've been uneven :P<strong>

**Just so you know, future chapters will be a lot less heavy and more lighter :)**

**The war mentioned was the "War of the Quadruple Alliance". Basically, Spain tried to seize Sicily and lost horribly, bad enough to lose all access to his control of Italy. I got sad when I learned that Spain had no backup during all of this and I imagined him fighting against France and Prussia. It broke my heart :(**

**But on a positive note, Spain will always have Romano~ ;)**

**Until next time!**

**Translations:**

**Spanish**

**_Sí, por favor-_Yes, please**

**_cabrón_-bastard**

**_Señor_-Mister/Sir**

**_Gracias_, _señorita_-Thank you, Miss**

**_Es muy importante_-It's very important**

**¿_Qué_?-What?**

**_Lo siento_-I'm sorry**

**_¡_Hijo de puta_!_-Son of a bitch!**

**_es muy tranquilo_-it's very quiet**

**_amigos_-friends**


	5. Chapter 5

**Alright, before we get down to business here, I'd like to give a shoutout to my friend, ClearAsCrystal269: HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MON AMI! *shoots out confetti* I hope you're having a great day :D**

**And for those of you who don't know, Clear writes some bombtastic PruCan and Giripan stories so go check them out ^^**

* * *

><p>Many more years passed and Romano wasn't that tiny chibi boy anymore nor was he that teenage boy struggling to grow up. He was a tall, lanky young man with the same fiery attitude that he was known for, except with a couple more words in his already colorful vocabulary. However, the main difference about him wasn't visible; he wasn't a colony anymore. After an abundant amount of years being politically separated from his younger brother, Romano and Veneziano were going to be unified.<p>

And this means that he didn't have to live with anyone anymore—not Austria, not Spain…

Living with Austria had been hell, but all of that changed when the Napoleonic rule ended and the Congress of Vienna began; as a result, Romano and Veneziano were struggling to unify their divided nation. Needless to say, Spain took the news as expected.

Lovino had yelled at Antonio when the bastard had actually burst into tears upon seeing him packing some of his leftover stuff that he had accidentally left behind at the Spaniard's place (no, he didn't leave them there on purpose when he moved to Austria's _just_ so he could have an excuse to come back…nope, he honestly and legitimately forgot about them…) and blubbered on about how he was going to miss his _tomate_ and how his 'Roma' was all grown up. The Italian would have none of that and promptly snapped at him to get himself together before begrudgingly promising to send him a letter the moment he got himself situated at his home in Italy. After a lot more tears and a suffocating hug from Spain, Romano managed to detach himself from his former caretaker and left for home.

After riding in a carriage for several days, he had finally arrived. His house was magnificent. Lovino was rather impressed by the structure from what he could see from the outside, yet knew he and his brother would be doing a lot to make it more cozy and welcoming. Already, he could imagine Feliciano planting several pretty flowers all around their front lawn and painting the dull brown door a different color.

Upon entering the empty house, Romano discovered that it was basically barren of personal touches, and he knew that Veneziano would immediately insist that they go shopping for proper furniture, kitchen supplies, sheets, clothing, and other similar items and would begin composing paintings to set up on their walls. Looking out the window now, Romano saw a huge backyard that was begging to be filled with life, and he decided that a tomato garden was necessary, maybe even a swimming pool.

After taking a tour around the house, examining each and every room, Romano stopped at the room that was supposed to be his and sat on the bed. It was covered in white sheets and had a rather thin pillow. The room itself had nothing but the bed, a desk, and four blank walls washed white, giving it a rather hollow vibe to it. The young Italian sighed. Veneziano wasn't supposed to arrive until later so he was alone for the time being. The feeling was…odd.

Living with both Spain and Austria meant that he was hardly ever alone, and when he was, he still heard the familiar noises of servants and other people bustling about. Since their unification was still fairly new, he and Feliciano had yet to hire anyone; moreover, with the finances they now possessed, they wouldn't be able to afford very many. Lovino supposed that that was to be expected, since they were a country getting their fresh start.

Speaking of, he and Italy needed to discuss a few things regarding how they were going to operate their country; who should be in charge, what to do about their fragile economy, who they should and shouldn't trade with, how they were going to pay for certain things…

If Romano had to be perfectly honest with himself, he was a bit apprehensive about being on his own. He knew it took a lot of responsibility to run a country and even with Veneziano around (who was practically useless half the time), it was going to be a lot of work and a lot of pressure. All his life, he was a colony, forced to follow under someone's orders (not that he really listened anyways) and was often fought over; his only real worries were of being conquered and taken away or of squirrels wetting his bed or of running into something and making a mess of things.

How the hell was he supposed to run a country practically by himself? What if the economy crashed? What if one of the other countries decided to pick a fight with him and Veneziano? What if their people are so unhappy that they start a civil war and the whole country descends into anarchy and chaos?

Just before his fears could completely consume him, Romano pulled out a familiar slab of silver from his pocket and squeezed it close. There, that's better—he was starting to feel calmer already. As the panic began to clear from his mind, he started to think more logically and came to a conclusion: he was being such a whiny little shit right now. There was no way in hell that he was just going to sit there, curled up, and feeling sorry for himself and worrying about crap that he could deal with in his sleep (because he definitely can, he's just that bad ass!).

Determination now pumping through his veins, Romano sat up, shoved the chunk of silver in his pocket, and walked out of the room. If this place was going to be his home from then on, he and his brother were going to need provisions. He went shopping and brought back groceries to fill their empty kitchen. By the time Feliciano arrived, Lovino had cooked up a lot of steaming, mouth-watering pasta with freshly baked garlic bread as well as some _paella_ on the side (Spain had taught him the recipe and Romano was proud to say that he nailed it). The smell of a delicious home-cooked meal wafted throughout the house and made the place seem a lot less empty and a lot more welcoming.

As Romano and Veneziano ate, his younger brother prattling on about some shit about decorating or another, something occurred to him: he could do this. He was the Southern half of Italy, dammit! He could do anything and if the world had a problem with that, fuck them! He'll take on all invaders who dare threaten his country, and he'll win! He'll blow away any deficit his nation will face, and he'll show the other countries that they better not fuck with him or his _fratello_ or else they'll suffer!

More importantly, he'll make Spain proud…not that he cares about what the tomato bastard thinks anyways…

{~/~/~}

Spain was practically hopping in his seat as his chauffeur drove him through the beautiful countryside in Italy. He was going to surprise his Lovi with a visit, and he couldn't wait. Home just wasn't the same without his _tomate_ stomping around, cursing, stuffing his puffy cheeks with pizza and tomatoes, and waking him up with his usual head-butt. Though the two still kept in touch through letters, Antonio wanted to be able to hug Lovino, pinch his cheeks, and even hear the other swearing at him in the flesh.

Beaming at the thought, he watched the scenery rush past him in a swirl of lush emerald-green. The horse-drawn carriage jolted over a few rocks, but Spain didn't mind so as long as it didn't mess up his gifts. Just to show that he had been thinking about his former charge, the Spaniard decided to bring a basket full of the ripest tomatoes he grew in the garden as well as a bottle of some his country's best wine.

He jubilantly looked at the gifts and wondered how Romano would react upon his unexpected visit. He hoped that Lovi would be at least _somewhat_ happy to see him and maybe just a _little_ bit homesick. In fact, he kind of kept his fingers crossed for the latter since it would not only mean a lovely trip down memory lane, but it would give Spain an even better reason for giving him yet another gift.

Antonio reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. He undid the folds and smoothed out the creases and glanced over the painting of his tomato garden with fondness. The Spaniard marveled over how talented Lovino was at the time, and he wondered how much he's improved in the years. He loved this picture and even now he looks at it before he falls asleep at night, especially when he had to give up Romano to Austria and when his ex-colony became independent.

Bearing this in mind, he was almost sad to give it back, but he figured that Lovi might need it more than he does. Judging by his letters, the Italian seemed to struggling a bit with running the country and is constantly frustrated with Feliciano running off to flirt with women and with the mafia doing as they pleased. Spain sympathized and sensed that maybe his _tomate_ was also a bit homesick (not that he'd ever admit that of course, the once-conquistador knew his former colony very well).

Antonio often sought out comfort from the painting and figured that perhaps Lovino can too; maybe it could give the younger man a piece of home, and whenever he looks at it, it could bring back nice memories of being a cute little colony.

_I think Roma could use a little slice of the past~_

He nodded to himself as if in confirmation and was brought out of his thoughts when the carriage suddenly came to a stop. Realizing that he had arrived, Spain brightly smiled, collected his things, and stepped out of the carriage.

He thanked his chauffeur and strolled down the trail leading to a rather magnificent-looking three-story house made of rustic light brown bricks, a darker brown for the roof shingles, tan-shaded window panes, a wooden door painted a vibrant red, and a balcony resting on the second floor. For a moment, the image of Spain playing his guitar right below that balcony and Romano standing up there listening to him play came to mind, and he grew giddy at the thought of surprising Lovi with a sweet Spanish song or even an upbeat Italian folk song that has people dancing the Tarantella.

The Spaniard began whistling a tune as he got closer to the door. _Oh, it's been way too long since I've seen my tomate~ I hope Romano's not too homesick. _Antonio glanced at the picture in his hand and smiled. _This will definitely cheer him up~_

Once he approached the door, Spain placed the picture into the basket of tomatoes and raised his free hand to knock on the door. However, before flesh could connect with wood, he heard something loudly crash from within the house that made him flinch. Then he became aware of a bunch of shouting.

"GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HOUSE, ASSHOLES!"

That sounded like Romano.

Spain's heart immediately raced as the thought of Romano getting attacked entered his mind, and he whipped out his battle axe, dropping the basket and his eyes blazing with fury. _If some cabrón thinks he can hurt Lovi…_ With a dark, protective aura surrounding him, Antonio kicked down the door and raised his axe…

Only to be shoved aside by two shady-looking men who scrambled to get out of the house. They practically tripped over their own feet, whimpering with fear, and dashed as far away from Lovino's house as possible. Antonio blinked after their retreating forms, confused, and turned around to see South Italy storming over, appearing to be chasing after those strange characters with a rock in his hand and poised as if he were going to throw it. Lovino didn't seem injured and looked more pissed off than his usual grumpiness.

Not noticing the other nation, Romano stomped onto the smashed down door and yelled after the running men. "AND DON'T COME BACK YOU BASTARDS! TELL YOUR GODDAMNED BOSS THAT I TOLD HIM TO GO FUCK HIMSELF AND TO LEAVE ME THE HELL ALONE! AND SO HELP ME GOD IF I CATCH YOU FUCKERS AROUND HERE AGAIN THEN I'LL SHOVE DOG SHIT DOWN YOUR FUCKING THROATS!" His threat seemed to frighten the men further because they somehow gained more speed and were out of sight within seconds.

For a moment, neither of the two countries moved; Romano was fuming with rage while Spain just stood there, staring at his former colony with awe. Eventually, the older man regained himself and quirked a small smile of disbelief and bemusement. "Dog shit, Roma?"

It was like Lovino just realized that he wasn't alone because he whipped around, startled. Once he recognized who it was, his shock disappeared and was replaced with irritation. "Spain? What the hell are you doing here, bastard?" He then, for some reason, hurriedly shoved that rock into his pocket before the other could really look at it. It seemed to be exceptionally shiny though, especially for some ordinary rock…

Brushing that aside, Antonio brightly smiled upon being faced with his former charge's usual attitude, finding it reassuring. "I was coming here on a surprise visit, Lovi~ I even brought gifts!" He gestured down to the discarded basket, happy to see that most of the tomatoes were fine, the wine bottle was still intact, and the picture was safe. "I didn't realize you had company though. Who were those guys?"

Lovino frowned at the reminder. "No one—just a couple of asswipes from the mafia."

The Spaniard's eyes widened, unsettled. "Those men were from the mafia?" His grip instinctively tightened on his axe.

"_Sì_, they were."

"What did they want? They didn't hurt you, did they?" His forest-green orbs swept over his Roma's form, trying to spot any damages and already calculating how long it would take for him to track down those vermin and 'return the favor' tenfold.

Fortunately, Romano shook his head. "Nah, they didn't hurt me…stop looking at me like that, dammit! I said I'm fine!"

Spain decided to take his word for it and nodded. "Well, that's good. So, why were they here anyways?"

"Those jerks tried to threaten me to influence some policies in their favor." He dryly scoffed in annoyance. "I was having a shitty morning as it was without those assholes adding to it so they were _damn_ lucky I went easy on them." Spain took a quick glance into the Italian's house and noticed several broken items, without a doubt thrown at or smashed over someone's head by Romano. Noticing where he was looking, the Italian added, "Ignore all that; I'll get that shit cleaned later." Then he happened to notice the door and grumbled, "Dammit, Feli and I just painted that door."

The Spaniard smiled rather sheepishly and decided that it was probably best not to mention that _he_ was the one to kick down the door and opted to focus on the house instead. "You sure look like you did a number on them. It's no wonder they were as scared as they were."

Romano snorted. "Damn right! Now they know better than to mess with me, those bastards!"

Spain couldn't help but chuckle at the familiarity of the Italian's fiery attitude. "I doubt they will with the way they ran off like that." Then he paused and asked, "No offense, but how did you do it, anyways?"

Lovino raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"Well…" Antonio awkwardly rubbed the back of his head, "again, no offense, but you never were a fighter…" How often had he seen Romano cower behind him or dash away with unnatural speed whenever France, Turkey, or a German was nearby?

As expected, Romano's entire face flushed his customary shade of ripe, autumn-scarlet, and he snapped, "What the hell is that supposed to mean, jerk?!"

"U-um…"

"Never mind, don't answer that! You don't know a damn thing about what you're talking about! I can be a fighter!"

"Err…"

"Shut up! I can! It's just that…I only fight when it really matters, dammit! Today was a good example! The mafia had just been bugging me for so long that I got pissed! They had no right to try and order me and Feliciano around and terrorize our people! I was bound to snap and those asshats were in the line of fire! I mean seriously, who the hell do they think they are?! It's one thing to mess with me, but to threaten Feli and our citizens too…they just took that shit too damn far!"

While Romano was ranting and fuming, Spain watched him with wonder and imagined him unleashing all that rage upon those men. If it was as explosive as he assumed it was, then it would definitely explain the state of the house.

Spontaneously, he was unexpectedly brought back to the day when he was speaking with some German soldiers for political purposes. Little Chibi Romano had suddenly darted forward, head-butted the soldier closest to Spain, and began pushing the other man away before resorting to wild punches. The Spaniard nation had been embarrassed and confused by his colony's behavior, yet later learned that Romano had thought that he was being attacked by those German soldiers and had only wanted to protect him. He had found it touching and endearing at the time and still did.

For some reason, he felt that that particular event somehow related to this one, if only in the way that Romano had found the courage to fight for someone else because he cared for them.

_I guess he really did care about me…even if it's just a little bit._

After a few moments, Lovino started to calm down and had reduced his raging to some annoyed, incoherent grumbles. A soft smile touched upon Antonio's lips as he commented, "Feliciano and your people are really lucky to have you, you know that?" _And so am I~_

Romano glared at him. "Shut up, tomato bastard."

Cocking his head to the side, Spain reflectively remarked, "Some things will never change with you~ I like it though."

The Italian spluttered with indignation before he finally settled for a glare and for changing the subject. "Why the hell did you say you were here again, _idiota_?" Romano inquired, driving Spain off of memory lane.

Antonio immediately brightened his smile. "I'm here to surprise you, Lovi~" He quickly put away his battle axe and grabbed the basket. "Boss figured you might be a little homesick so I thought-"

"Homesick?!" Lovino exclaimed with outrage. "There's no way in hell that I'd miss being at your place! It always smelled funny, and it's so fucking big that anyone could get lost! I'm not homesick you tomato jerk!" With that, he folded his arms over his chest and angrily pouted, turning red around the face.

Spain was instantly reminded of when Romano was just a little chibi child and how adorable he was whenever he got furious and exasperated, and he cheerfully exclaimed, "Oh Romano, you're so cute! Your face is like a tomato~" As if to prove his point, the Italian's face burned a darker crimson, and the curly-haired brunette cooed with delight.

Lovino spluttered out of fluster before snapping, "Shut up, bastard! I'm not cute!" Antonio smiled bigger. "I said shut up! Just…stop looking at me like that! Why don't you make yourself useful by helping me clean up this mess instead of smiling there like an idiot!" Without waiting for him to answer, Romano spun around and stalked back into his messy home.

Chuckling to himself, Spain shook his head, his smile never wavering. Romano's comments were rather endearing (in their own way), and the older nation didn't realize how much he missed them since his _tomate_ left until that moment. As he made his way into the house (stepping over the door he kicked down…which he'll fix later), he got a better look at the damage and noted that a lot of things appeared to be broken, picture frames hanging up on the wall were crooked, there were actually some dents and cracks in the walls as if someone had been slammed into it…

Antonio steered his thoughts away from that direction and instead focused on how Lovino had sent those men running scared. His little ex-colony was just full of delightful surprises.

For a moment, the Spaniard glanced down at the basket, more specifically at the picture of his tomato garden. _On second thought, maybe I should just keep this after all. Lovi seems to be doing just fine—I'm so proud of him~_

* * *

><p><strong>Little Lovi is all grown up so now Spamano can officially commence ;)<strong>

**Anyways, thanks for reading! Your encouragement makes me happy :D Again, Happy Birthday, ClearAsCrystal269~!**

**Translations:**

**Spanish**

**_tomate_-tomato**

**_cabrón_-bastard (quite literally one of first Spanish words I learned XD)**

**Italian**

**_fratello_-brother**

**_Sì_-Yes**

**_idiota_-idiot (shocker *deadpan*)**


	6. Chapter 6

**Hey there~ Two quick things I should mention before you start reading: 1) there will be varying time gaps in-between each chapter and I'll be sure to indicate how much time has passed; and 2) I mentioned in the first chapter that this story was going to be about 6-7 chapters, but there's going to be a change. Since I added a few more chapters than what I originally had written up, there will end up being about 14-15 chapters to the story instead. **

**Not sure if that matters to anyone, but I just wanted to mention it in case someone's looking at this chapter and thinking, 'wait, she only said there'd be like 6 chapters...it's the 6th chapter so where's the Spamano? Rip off!' XD**

* * *

><p>"Fuck my life," Romano groused as he frowned up at the ceiling. He was currently lying in his bed as sick as a dog, and he <em>hated<em> it with the utmost passion. His body ached, he felt as if he was on fire yet the chills that kept travelling through him said otherwise, his head pounded like if a jackhammer was digging into his head of cement, his stomach churned in a way that warned him against eating anything since it'll surely toss it back, and, in short, he felt like shit.

He and Feli were having a bit of trouble with some assholes causing chaos led by some asshat name Mussolini and his goddamned Fascist Party, and the result was the two of them getting sick. Unfortunately, his idiot brother was shacking it up with that one country, Germany (some wurst-sucking, damned potato-eater), so he was left alone.

"Fucking Mussolini…fucking world war…fucking German bastard…fucking sickness…fucking life…" A major world war ended not too long ago and Romano had long accepted that with war came casualties, but this was ridiculous; can't his people calm the fuck down and pull themselves together, dammit?!

Grumbling to himself and cursing how hot he was feeling, Romano glanced over at his dresser where a familiar chunk of not-rock was placed. The Italian reached over and grabbed it, pressing it against his red cheek. It felt cool to the touch and he unconsciously pressed it to his other cheek, indulging himself in the brief, mild sense of relief.

Suddenly, he heard something that sounded like footsteps resound in his house and, for a moment, his hazy mind figured that maybe his little brother was back when an obnoxiously cheerful voice rang out, "¡_Hola_ Lovi! ¿_Dónde estás_?"

Romano stiffened, pushed down this strange sense of giddiness that unexpectedly sprang upon him, and then groaned. Within seconds, Spain poked his head into the other's room and beamed with happiness upon sight of him. "Oh, there you are, Lovi~ I heard you were sick so I decided that it would be good if Boss came by to check up on his little _tomate_!"

The Italian weakly glared at him and quickly hid the slab of silver under his pillow. If the tomato jerk found out that he still kept it after all these years, then he'd never let him live it down. "Okay, first off, you're not my goddamned boss anymore! I'm my own goddamned country! And second off, what did I say about calling me 'Lovi' or '_tomate_'?! That shit does not go down!"

Undeterred, Spain chuckled and invited himself in, plopping down on the bed next to a red-faced, sweaty Romano. "Aw Roma, your face is like a tomato, so cute~ But you seem redder than usual. You must be really sick!"

"No shit, _idiota_!" Something then registered to him that should've hit him sooner yet was inhibited by his groggy mind. "How the fuck did you even get in my house, you pervert?!"

"The door was wide open," Antonio explained nonchalantly, like if it wasn't a big deal. "I figured you and Feli wouldn't mind if I let myself in." _Dammit Feliciano, he must've forgotten to close the goddamned door before he left…_ Romano mentally grumbled. "Speaking of, where is your brother anyways?"

Lovino attempted to shrug, but it was too much for his aching body. "At that guy Germany's house. I'm sure he's sick too so I probably won't see him for a few days." He narrowed his feverish-looking hazel orbs. "If that kraut screws with that idiot, I'm going to send the mafia on his ass!"

Spain gently chuckled. "Oh, I'm sure he's fine. Gilbert's brother has a good head on his shoulders; he wouldn't dare hurt Feli. You should focus on yourself, Lovi." He then ruffled his hair only to pause at both the wetness, courtesy of his fever-induced sweat, and the heat radiating off of his head. "¡_Dios mío_! You're so warm! You must have a very high fever! Wait here, I'll be right back!" Without waiting for his former charge to respond, Spain dashed out of the room.

Romano watched him go and rolled his eyes. _Wait here…like I have anywhere else to go._

Not too long later, the Spaniard returned with a bowl of water, a towel, and a thermometer. Without a word of warning, he stuck the latter in the other's mouth. Romano's eyes widened, but Spain shook his head. "Keep that in your mouth and under your tongue, okay Lovi?" Too tired to argue, the Italian did as he was told (begrudgingly of course).

Spain proceeded to place the bowl on the Italian's dresser and dip the towel into it. He then squeezed some excess water out of the cloth and gently settled it onto Romano's burning head. Almost immediately the Italian felt a bit of relief from the coolness, and he internally cursed Spain for having that dumb, annoying look of concern on his face.

No words were exchanged as Antonio removed the thermometer from the younger man's mouth. He looked at the reading and frowned. "You have a temperature. _Eso no está bien_. How long have you been like this?"

"None of your goddamned business!" Romano snapped.

Ignoring that, Spain inquired, "Have you eaten at all today?"

"No…and I don't plan to! My stomach moans like a little bitch!"

The curly-haired brunette pursed his lips before smiling and declaring, "I know just the thing to help _mi tomate_! Some nice hot tomato soup! That'll be easy on your stomach! Stay here! I'll go make you some!" And with an unusually giddy hop in his step, Span darted out of the room to head for the kitchen.

For a moment, Romano was stunned. Once he regained his senses, he growled in frustration and sunk deeper into his pillow, pressing a hand to the cool towel on his head. _Stupid tomato bastard…_ Sighing in exasperation, Lovino reached a hand under the pillow and grasped onto the chunk of silver, not pulling it out as he waited for Antonio to return. Damned sickness…damned domestic problems…

The rest of the day was spent in a haze where Romano remembered figments of Spain tending to him, never leaving his side. The other coaxed tomato soup into him ("I can feed myself, you bastard!") and had him swallow some aspirin for his fever and for the aches; he even soothingly rubbed his back when the Italian bolted to the restroom and emptied the contents of his stomach. Antonio hummed Spanish lullabies, told him jokes, chronicled some stories that ranged from some of his battles and conquests to some stray cat he found peeking through his garbage last week, repeatedly carded his fingers through his hair to relax him, and just generally kept him company.

Throughout the entire time, Romano tried hard to spit out curses at him, only for them to fall flat or come out half-hearted. Being sick took quite a toll on him and, to his chagrin, he found that he was just too tired and out of it to be his usual bad ass self. He kept insisting that he was fine and that he didn't need some stupid bastard babysitting him. Spain thought otherwise and dedicatedly remained near him, playing nurse. It both pissed off the Italian and got his stomach to flutter with warmth rather than churn with nausea (something he tried to ignore all day).

Eventually, he started getting tuckered out, and he felt his eyes droop without his consent. Spain immediately noticed and smiled fondly at his former charge's efforts to fight off his sleepiness. "You need to rest, Roma. Go to sleep~"

"Like hell I will…" Romano murmured, feeling his body beginning to relax on its own accord.

The last thing he felt before the darkness overtook him was the feel of a pair of warm lips lightly brush over his forehead and a soft, gentle voice whispering, "Sleep tight, Lovi. _Te amo_~"

But he was fairly positive that he imagined it. Damned feverish delusions…

{~/~/~}

"…What? Where am I?" Spain gradually opened his heavy eyelids and was faced with the view of the ceiling. Has that stain always been there…?

Beside the point, Antonio's muddled mind tried to make sense of where he was and how he got here. It took him a few moments of staring around the room to realize that he was in his room, lying on his bed. _How on earth did I get here? The last thing I remember was…actually, I have no idea._

The Spaniard then perceived how his head pounded as fiercely as Hell's wrath itself, and his first thought was that he was hung over. _Did I go out drinking with France and Prussia again? I must have, I don't remember anything. _However, that theory was knocked aside when he realized that he was feeling unusually warm and that his nose was stuffed up, the latter partially contributing to his throbbing headache.

His eyes widened as the sudden realization struck him. _I think I have a cold…_ It made sense after all: the splitting headache, the bodily heat that threatened to melt him, the haze in his mind, and the clogged up nose all indicated that he was sick. Spain lightly groaned and briefly shut his eyes. His country was currently under a lot of stress and discord; people wanted different things for him and also _from _him, and they were taking sides.

Well, that explained the unbearable headache. If Spain didn't know any better, then he'd say his country was at a civil war. But that can't be right—things have been decent since WWI ended…not perfect, but decent.

…Okay, if he had to be perfectly honest with himself, things weren't always so great. That world war left a lot of the nations shattered and stunned and struggling to pick themselves up, yet then again, that was normal. War was tough on everybody and, with a war as big as that one, it's no wonder that some of the other countries were getting sick; Romano just recently got over a cold that resulted from a recession, but he got better and the others will too. They'll be back to normal soon enough, right? All they need to do is pick themselves up, brush themselves off, and face the new day with a smile. It had to be that simple…right?

…Then again, all of Europe seemed to be bristling with tension, courtesy of the devastating aftermath of WWI (some cities were ruined beyond repair, not to mention the citizens…), the economic troubles that plagued basically all the countries (Germany and America had it especially bad…), some trouble being stirred up by leaders like that Hitler guy and that Mussolini character, and some remaining friction between the countries after about four years of fighting, killing, and backstabbing. Something in Spain's gut told him that something big was brewing and that it would have a momentous impact on the world—it was set to erupt soon, the brunette could feel it.

Thinking about things like that tended to hurt his stomach so Spain decided to save himself the anguish and tried to think about his current situation. Now that he knew he had a cold (though it felt significantly worse than a regular one…pneumonia, maybe?), Antonio wondered how to proceed in a way that was best for his people. The country was already fragile from war, bringing about the epidemic of recession, and the conflict and nationwide disorder wasn't helping his condition. He had to fix this.

With determination coursing through him, Spain attempted to get up, only for his vision to swim and for the world to spin like a pinwheel at a gust of wind. Choking back some bile, the brunette laid back down and groaned. "_Oi vey_…"

Suddenly, the door to his room slammed opened and startled him. When he glanced up, he was surprised to see Romano standing in the doorway with a box full of tissues, a small trashcan, and what appeared to be a dripping wet towel. The Italian froze for a moment, appearing surprised to see the Spaniard awake, before he glared. "So you finally decided to get up you jerk!" He then stomped over and roughly planted the trashcan on the side of Antonio's bed and the tissues by the other man's side.

Once he got over his shock, Spain happily beamed and chirped, "Lovi! What are you doing here, _mi tomate_?! Are you here to see Boss?"

It was so cute how Lovino's cheeks flushed a pretty red when he was embarrassed or frustrated, and today's shade seemed especially radiant today. "No I'm not, tomato bastard! I didn't want to come here by my own free will!" Antonio blinked. "Shut up, I didn't! I was sitting at home minding my own business when one of your stupid guards called me! He told me that he found you conked out in your tomato garden and that you seemed to be running a fever and that you won't be able to attend our scheduled meeting for Friday!"

Friday's meeting…_now_ he remembered: Spain had been excited about going to see Roma so he decided that he should bring some tomatoes as a gift. He recalled feeling just a bit under the weather, but figured that nothing would make him feel better than harvesting his favorite fruit in the whole world. However, his head began to hurt, and he was getting tired and weak all of a sudden…

The rest was a blur so Antonio could only assume that he passed out, one of his guards found him, put him to bed, and called Lovino.

"Of course I then had to drive for over thirteen fucking hours just to get here because taking the train was too damn expensive and it took too damn long," Romano continued to rant, "only to find you unconscious in bed and that you actually _were_ running a fucking fever and that your nose was full of snot and shit so I figured that I had no choice but to stay here and make sure that you don't get yourself sicker because knowing you, you'd be dumb and unlucky enough to make yourself feel worse! So here I am now in your goddamned house even thought I don't want to be and…WHY THE HELL ARE YOU SMILING, JERK?!"

During Romano's adorable tirade, Spain came to realize that the Italian was furious out of concern for him and was probably a bit embarrassed by his own worry for him, showing his previous caretaker that he actually cared for him. Antonio couldn't help but smile at that and he'd hug his _tomate_ had he the strength and if the room would stop moving and making him dizzy and…was there really an ostrich juggling in the room or was he hallucinating that?

"Oh, no reason, Romano. I'm just happy to see you~"

Lovino scoffed and folded his arms over his chest. "I wish I could say the same…actually no, I don't wish it. I'm not happy to see you like this." As if realizing what he just said, the Italian's (dazzling) hazel orbs widened and he turned red. "I didn't mean it like that! What I meant is that I don't like seeing you like this because…because…" he seemed to be struggling for an answer, and Antonio was reminded of the time when his young charge was flustered when Belgium offered to kiss him on the cheek and Chibi Romano stuttered that it wasn't necessary, "because you look pathetic! It's sad even for you!"

Romano appeared satisfied with his excuse, and Spain was in awe of his ex-colony. Soon, he couldn't help but beam with delight. Some things just never change, and he was fine with that. Lovino caught his smile and flushed darker out of both embarrassment and annoyance. He stuttered for a moment before getting frustrated and throwing the towel at him. "Quit smiling like that, it's obnoxious and creepy!"

Spain was pleased to feel that the cloth was soaked with cool water, and he positioned it so that it was on his forehead. "_Lo siento_. So are you going to take care of Boss, Lovi?"

"What?! Where the hell would you get an idea like that?!"

"It's why you're here, right?"

"…_Chigi_! Shut up, tomato bastard! Just shut up and don't you dare move from that spot!" And with that, he stormed out of the room in a huff, grumbling to himself. Antonio watched him leave and chuckled. His _tomate_ was so cute—every little thing he did was just absolutely enchanting—and the Spaniard was flattered that the Italian came by to take care of him. Though Spain was feeling crappy (which is an understatement), seeing Romano was already brightening his day.

Eventually, Lovino came back with a glass of cool water which Antonio accepted gratefully. "Alright bastard, I don't exactly know how shitty you're feeling so just tell me what you're feeling, and we'll work from there. But don't think I'm doing this because I want to be here or that I care about your sorry ass because I don't! I know fuckface France and the albino bastard would do a lousy job taking care of you, and I doubt Netherlands will let Belgium near you so it looks like I'm your only real option…and I'm not happy about it, dammit!"

"_Sí_, _sí_, I understand, Lovi, and I appreciate you being here~" Spain smiled at him in appreciation, and Romano blushed. "But I'm not feeling _that_ bad. I mean, I've got a little headache, my belly is feeling a bit icky, my entire body is kinda achy, I think I see a talking tomato doing cartwheels near my closet, and I have the snifflies…but I'm alright, Roma, really!"

Romano blinked at him in disbelief when he was presented with a large, happy smile. "You really are a dumb ass aren't you? You just described a fucking cold to me, and a pretty damn bad one at that." When Spain's only response was to brighten his smile, the Italian released an exasperated breath. "_Idiota_…so since I'm already here, I'm guessing you want me to make you some soup or something."

Spain cheerfully beamed. "That would be nice, Lovi, but maybe later. Right now I want you to tell Boss about how you're doing right now~ ¿_Cómo __est__á__ mi tomate_?"

"You're not my boss, bastard! And how many times do I have to tell you that I'm not a fucking tomato?!"

"Could've fooled me with that face," Antonio playfully quipped as he pointed to Lovino's glowing red countenance. "So cu…cu…" the inside of his nose started to tickle and soon he clamored out a loud, "ACHOOOO!"

Romano flinched backwards, startled by the sudden noise, until his surprised expression reverted to a frown. "You sneezed all over me you bastard! I just bought this shirt!"

Spain sniffled and then blew his now-runny nose with a tissue as he gave his former charge an apologetic smile. "_Lo siento_, Lovi. I'll buy you a new one."

Something seemed to flash in Romano's eyes, but it quickly disappeared as he grumbled, "You can't afford that, _idiota_, you're in a goddamned economic depression—you're basically poor." Spain thought that over and realized that he was right; since his country was undergoing a civil war, the economy wasn't doing so good, hence the cold/possible pneumonia. However, he didn't let it get to him and shrugged it off with a smile.

Lovino studied him for a moment before sighing in exasperation and muttering, "So, what was that about wanting to talk?"

Antonio beamed and cooed, "Oh yes~ I was thinking we could talk for a while, just to catch up and all! Hearing about your day will make Boss very happy!"

Spain could tell that Romano really wanted to assert that he didn't control him anymore yet seemed to refrain. Instead, he growled, "You're a sap, you know that?"

The Spaniard eagerly bobbed his head and then patted the spot on the bed near him. "Take a seat, Lovi. Let's talk. I feel like it's been forever since I've seen you~" The Italian rolled his eyes yet, nevertheless, took a seat somewhat close to Spain yet not too close that he'd catch his cooties (Romano had just gotten over his own illness recently, and Spain didn't want to bring it back). Soon, the two began chatting about everything and anything and nothing at all.

Despite that Antonio had a throbbing headache that seemed to worsen with just the slightest tilt of his head, talking to Lovino and listening to him talk in turn helped him ignore it. He enjoyed spending time with Roma whenever he could, and if it were up to him, he'd see his _tomate_ every day. They spoke for a while until Romano (begrudgingly) made him some broth and light sandwiches. There wasn't much the former colony could do for him that didn't involve handing him a tissue or giving him some aspirin, yet just having the grouchy, remarkable Italian with him was more than enough to help him get better.

Unfortunately, after a couple of days, Romano had to get back to Italy and Spain was sad to see him go, but grateful that he spent some time with his _pequeño_ _tesoro_; Lovino even promised (rather reluctantly) that he'd visit sometime ("if it'll get you to stop begging, jerk!").

The Spaniard was sick for a while longer and was restricted to only his room and the bathroom, afraid of getting others sick and was sometimes too tired to move around anyways. He tried to do a bit of work in bed and succeeded sometimes. On one occasion, Spain noticed that his exports to Italy have increased, and it was somewhat alleviating his economy—not by much, but it made a difference nonetheless, and he could tell mainly by how his headache was fading to a dull throb.

Antonio was puzzled because Lovi and Feli needed some help with their economy too, so why increase their imports? Surely it must've made them sick too. To solve this, Spain called up the Italy brothers and managed to get Feliciano to answer. Once he got past the other's bubbly greeting, he inquired about the increase.

It was sure a sign of the apocalypse when Antonio detected a smidge of slyness in Veneziano's tone—the cheerful Italian sounded almost playful, the teasing 'I know something you don't' kind of playful, as he helpfully informed the former conquistador that Lovino decided to purchase more goods from Spain 'because they needed it, dammit' (obviously Romano's words).

Sometime during the conversation, Spain came to a revelation: Romano increased the amount of imports to help him with his economy. The thought overwhelmed the man with joy, and he asked Italy to pass on a word of thanks to his brother before ending the call. Spain wasn't sure what he was going to do to fully express his gratitude and appreciation, but he was determined to think of something rather extravagant.

In the meantime though, he was still too sick to get out of bed, let alone start on some big project (were fireworks too much…?). Spain had to stay in bed for a while until he got his strength back, and at times, it got boring being in the same place all day.

Regardless, with Romano's picture framed up on the wall (put there on his orders), he never felt like a prisoner (with a runny nose and a splitting headache) trapped in solitary confinement—just one look at the picture and he was free.

And to think that the mere thought of the painter of that picture presented him with a whole new sense of boundless freedom, undeniable happiness, and something warmer and deeper that he couldn't quite identify yet.

* * *

><p><strong>The Spanish Civil War I was referring to was the one right before WWII; it lasted from 1938-1939. I can only imagine that a civil war for a country could feel like if you were being split in two, so for Spain it'd probably be like a huge headache.<strong>

**Hooray for some subtle Spamano! I'll be sure to add some more next time, and maybe a bit more ;) Anyways, thanks for reading and thanks for all the support! You guys rock :D**

**P.S I put up some story ideas 'for sale' on my profile if anyone is interested. It's literally just a bunch of story ideas and prompts that anyone can just take for themselves. So if you have writer's block or if you just want to write something new, check it out for yourself! More details are on my profile :3**

**Translations:**

**Spanish**

**¡_Hola_ Lovi! ¿_Dónde estás_?-Hello Lovi! Where are you?**

**_tomate_-tomato**

**¡_Dios mío_!-My god!**

**_Eso no est**á** bien_-This isn't good**

**_Te amo_-I love you**

**_Lo siento_-I'm sorry**

**_Sí_-yes**

**¿_Cómo est_****_á_****_ mi tomate_?-How is my tomato?**

**_pequeño _****_tesoro-_little treasure**

**Italian**

**_idiota_-idiot**

**_Chigi_!-Fuck!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Hey there~ I'd like to thank all of you for your remarkable support! I'd especially like to thank TheAwesomeMe128, Sweetblood1918, PileOfStinkyPoo, and Mapple Syrup for your lovely reviews, and particularly the latter two for pointing out some Spanish translation errors. If anyone happens to notice any errors in translating, grammar, historical accuracy, or anything else, please let me know so I can fix it! :)**

**Also, thank you ClearAsCrystal269 for your input on this chapter~ Picking Netherlands was a good choice ;)**

**By the way, Romano and Italy's birthday is on March 17****th****; they were unified on the 13****th****, but became the Kingdom of Italy on the 17****th**** in 1861, hence their birthday. From what I understand, then that means their centennial should've been in 1961. If I'm wrong, let me know a.s.a.p. **

**Otherwise, this chapter takes place in 1961. **

* * *

><p>Another World War passed and Romano was ready for things to wind down and for everyone to get their shit together. Despite that it's been nearly two decades since that potato-breath Germany let Hitler fuck things up (so what if that dickwad Mussolini didn't help things either…), some of the countries were still testy and their people were still struggling a bit. Romano knew that he and little brother were doing more or less alright, yet figured that something needed to be done to pull everyone from their funk.<p>

Apparently, Feliciano had the same idea as well because on their centennial in 1961, he poked his head into Lovino's room and cheerfully announced, "_Fratello_~! Wake up, sleepy-head, or you'll be late for our party!"

"The hell?" Romano mumbled sleepily as he was pulled from his slumber. "What're you babbling about? What's going on?" He glanced at his clock and noted the time. 10:32 am. Oh, _hell_ no. "The shit is this? It's too damn early you jerk." And with that, he attempted to pull the covers back over his head, only for Veneziano to grab them and yank them back.

"Ve~ but Lovi, if you don't get up now, you might sleep through our whole birthday! We can't have that; it's going to be a special day today! I'd hate for you to miss our party! That wouldn't be fun at all! I'd be sad if you missed out on the fun!" His smile drooped then sprang back up again. "Oh Romano, can you believe that we're 100?! We're so old! It feels like just yesterday that-"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, WHOA, back up a bit…did you say something about a party?"

"_Sì_, I did! Our party is going to start in a couple of hours! Oh, I can't wait! We're going to have pasta and cake and ice cream and a band and streamers and pasta and-"

"Dammit, slow down, will you," Romano snapped, suddenly wide awake. "Who said anything about us having a party?!"

"Well, I asked you if it was okay last week and you said it was fine. Remember?"

"What the-! When the hell did I say that?!"

"Last week~ I asked you when you were on the phone with Big Brother Spain. You were yelling at him for some reason and I asked you and you told me to go away but I really wanted to know so I kept asking and then you yelled that you didn't care what I did and you went back to yelling at Toni. I took that as a yes so I started making plans! Oh _fratello_, today is going to be so much fun! I'm so glad you said yes!" Italy brightly grinned and clasped his hands together, and Romano blinked at him in disbelief.

Then it hit him.

Oh shit, _now _he remembered.

The tomato bastard had called and subjected Romano to endless, mindless chatter that he had wanted no part of yet had been forced to listen to. Sure, he could've hung up whenever he wanted, but he had nothing better to do than to listen to the jerk prattle on about whatever came to mind. At some point, Antonio mentioned that he saw a cute, growling little Chihuahua dog that reminded him of 'his Roma' and Lovino had gotten offended ("did you just compare me to a dog, dammit?!"). It didn't help when Veneziano had started tugging on his sleeve and asking about some shit or another, and Romano had waved him off, too pissed off at Spain to really care.

Looks like he needed to pay better attention…

Seeing his brother's expression of horrified realization and immediately misinterpreting it, Italy happily clapped his hands and exclaimed, "Yay~! Let's get this party started!"

{~/~/~}

Somebody needed to shoot him right now.

Romano glared at the scene before him: there were numerous nations partying it up in the back yard, alternating between dancing to the Italian band Feliciano hired or jumping in the pool or socializing with one another. Though it was a rather joyous, fun-filled setting, Romano couldn't help but feel annoyed. After all, in his opinion, most of these nations were assholes (he glowered pointedly at Germany, Prussia, America, France, England, etc.), and he'd rather gouge his own eye out than hang out with them; hell, the only reason they were even here was because Italy wanted to invite everyone so they could 'all be friends' ("the more the merrier, ve~!")

_The more the merrier, my ass…_

All afternoon, he had been answering the door, usually greeting the guests with "who the hell invited you, bastard?!", and had gotten annoyed with the turnout. He even almost flipped shit when that macho potato had the _gall_ to actually show up, but was restrained when Italy unexpectedly flew by and tackled the stupid jerk to the ground and actually hugged him (he should've just kicked both their asses out, Feli's feelings be damned).

After a while, Veneziano had relieved him of 'guest greeting' duty and had asked him to make sure the band set up properly and that the food was all set out for their visitors. Romano didn't bother and instead made sure to lock the doors of any rooms that he didn't want people to wander into, especially _his_ room; moreover, he ordered the guards to protect his tomato garden because he'll be _damned_ if some asswipe set their unworthy paws onto a single red fruit that he worked damn hard to grow. Additionally, he made sure to keep his small chunk of silver in his pocket with him at all times, just in case.

By now, all the guests had arrived, some even bringing birthday presents for him and Feliciano. Romano made a quick mental head-count and grimaced: America was currently stuffing his face at the buffet table while bothering Britain, Canada was dipping his feet in the pool, Hungary was trying to coax Austria to get in the pool with her, Switzerland was maintaining an impassive expression as Liechtenstein cheerfully swung his arms around, trying to get him to dance, Sealand was boasting about how he could do a 'wicked cool' cannonball to a shaky Latvia who was standing at attention next to Lithuania and Estonia, Russia was blissfully monitoring his Baltic states (that bastard had actually invited himself, much to the Vargas brothers' fearful chagrin) while drinking some vodka, China was feeding his beloved panda some pasta, Netherlands was off smoking somewhere, Belgium and Poland were dancing to the music, Denmark was in the pool splashing Norway who looked subtly pissed, Finland was trying to coax 'Su-san' to dance, Greece was sleeping under a tree, Turkey was chatting it up with Ukraine as the two sat at the edge of the pool, Australia was swimming some laps, Belarus was nowhere to be seen (Romano sent the guards to investigate the perimeter a.s.a.p.), Italy was playing Marco Polo, completely unaware that Japan was sitting outside of the pool, having refused to take off his clothes, and that Germany was currently being dunked into the water by a cackling Prussia, and France was sneaking up behind Austria with a rather perverted look on his face.

_Seriously, who the hell invites these people?! They're all a bunch of jerks!_

"_Hola _birthday boy~" _Lo and behold, here comes the biggest jerk of them all._

Romano turned to see Spain happily bounding over to him with the largest grin on his face, and tomato fairies suddenly erupted within his belly. Once he approached the Italian, he asked, "What are you doing just standing here? It's time to have some fun on your special day! Why don't you dance or come and jump in the pool with me?!"

Lovino blinked once and answered, "Fuck off, _bastardo_."

As expected, Antonio laughed and wasn't the least bit deterred. "Aw~ even on your birthday you're so grumpy! It's so cute~" Then he reached over and quickly pinched the other's cheek before his hand could be slapped away (or broken off…).

Romano fiercely blushed and snapped, "I said fuck off, dammit! And I'm NOT cute! _Nothing_ I do is cute! How many times do I have to tell you that?!"

Spain lightly chuckled and quipped, "As many times as it takes for you to realize it as the truth." South Italy gave him a blank stare that clearly read 'I'm not amused, dumb ass'. "Anyways, you really should go out and mingle, have some pasta, dance, jump in the pool…have some fun! It's your centennial! It's time to party and celebrate!"

"Right," Lovino responded sarcastically with a snort. "Let me just grab my trunks and jump in the stupid pool, and while I'm at it, I should totally start dancing the Tarantella to this shitty band's shitty music."

"Oh, that sounds like fun! Do that!" Romano deadpanned at Spain's ecstatic expression and tried very hard not to notice how his green eyes sparkled in that remarkable way they do whenever he was especially happy. "You deserve to have a good time, Lovi~ After all, Feli is so you should too!" They both looked over at Italy who was still playing Marco Polo, oblivious that Japan wasn't actually in the water, despite calling out 'Polo' every now and then, and that a soaking wet Germany was currently smacking Prussia. "In fact, you should join your brother and play that fun game with him! I think I might join!"

Romano raised an eyebrow and grumbled, "There's no way in hell that I'm going to play that stupid game with my stupid brother, especially if _you're_ going to play! Now just go away and leave me alone!"

Spain pouted good-naturedly. "So mean to Boss~ Very well, it's your birthday! You do what makes you happy!" Then he unexpectedly began to take off his shirt and promptly discarded the cloth to the side, revealing a set of tan, obviously strong-looking, powerful abs and pecs. South Italy instantly stiffened, and his face turned red as his hazel orbs took in the inviting, gorgeous (uh…_horribly disgusting_) figure before him. _Oh merda_…

Antonio didn't seem to notice his ogling (err…_look of utter horror_) as he stretched out his rippling muscles and beamed down at him. "Alright Lovi, if you need me, I'll be in the pool playing with Feli! Hopefully you'll join us later! You need to learn to have fun~" And with that, the Spaniard took off and did a 'cannonball' into the water, soaking a couple of nations.

Lovino looked between the abandoned shirt and then to its ditzy owner and rolled his eyes, willing his face to cool down. _That…that infuriating…jerk! That pervert was probably hoping I'd check him out or something…which I most certainly wasn't!_ Releasing a breath of frustration, Romano watched Spain join in his oh-so adorable brother's silly little game and felt a flare of anger sting him. _Learn to have fun…what a bastard. He and my fratello can keep their so-called 'fun'. _And with that rather malignant, venomous thought, Romano spun around and stalked into his house.

The Italian entered his kitchen and moodily slumped his elbows on top of the counter so that he could rest his head in his hands. He noticed a small bowl of tomatoes and immediately snatched one up and bit into it. Currently, he was alone in the room and he was grateful for it, restless by the need to get away from all those other nations. He never was truly fond of large crowds or festivities in general; they made him uncomfortable.

_Damn it, Veneziano…_

Just as Lovino was contemplating whether or not to snag the bowl of tomatoes and just lock himself in his room, someone entered the kitchen and said, "Oh, hello there, Italy Romano." The Italian glanced up to see Netherlands standing in the doorway, appearing as stoic and impassive as he usually was. His bright green eyes assessed him as he held a long, thin pipe in between the fingers of his right hand.

Though Romano wasn't particularly fond of Netherlands (and no, it was most certainly not because he and Spain were enemies…), he had to admit that out of all the other nations, the pot-smoking bastard was one of the (very) few he could actually tolerate to some extent. "Hey jerk. Are you doped up yet?"

If Netherlands was offended by the jab, then he didn't show it. "Not particularly, no." As if to fix that, he took a long drag of his pipe and blew out a trail of smoke. "Congratulations on reaching your centennial, by the way. There were times when I wondered if you and your brother would make it or dissolve." He either didn't notice or ignored the glare of offense he was given. "I hope you like the gift Belgium and I got you two, it was her idea."

Romano rolled his eyes and muttered, "I'm not surprised she got us a gift; I'll have to thank her later." Then he glanced up Netherlands breathing out another puff of smoke. "What are doing in here anyways? Shouldn't you be outside smoking that shit?"

"Normally yes, but it came to my attention that your guests are running low on ice. I came in here to see if I can fetch some more."

A pair of scowling hazel orbs widened. "What?! My idiot brother and I filled that damned cooler to the brim! How the hell could we be running low already?!"

"From what I understand, America and Prussia picked up the cooler and dumped the ice all over Russia."

For a moment, Lovino was too stunned to say anything, let alone figure out how he felt about that. Eventually, he concluded that though the Russian bastard deserved it, he intended to have the hamburger bastard and albino bastard pay for anything that might be broken within these next few hours, including their own hospital bills and anything they might get their blood on (because it was just _so_ damn hard to clean out). Violently cursing in his head, Romano growled out, "Dumb ass bastards just dug their own graves. They sure as hell deserve it though."

Netherlands nodded and replied, "Indeed they do. I've taken the liberty of informing your guards to keep an eye on Russia and to only intervene if the other countries get involved."

The Italian could help but snort out a laugh. "Good call. Let those assholes sort their shit out. As long as they don't start World War Three or something then I don't care who fucks up whom."

The Dutchman raised an eyebrow at his course language, yet inclined his head nonetheless. "So is there more ice?"

Lovino nodded and indicated to the freezer. "Yeah, in there." The two proceeded to grab a couple more bags of ice and make their way outside where, thankfully, nothing seemed destroyed for the time being. Romano had to hold his tomato by clenching it in his teeth while Netherlands actually stuck his pipe behind his ear like a pencil as they carried the heavy bags.

Once they dumped the ice into the cooler, Netherlands promptly resumed smoking while Romano bit down on his tomato and took hold of it. "Uh, thanks or whatever for helping, jerk," the Italian awkwardly muttered, not used to voicing his gratitude.

Netherlands merely nodded once. "Happy to help. It just annoys me that those two Neanderthals," he inclined his head over to America and Prussia who were laughing hysterically at one end of the pool while Russia, purple aura and all, was eerily smiling at them from the other side, "wasted perfectly good ice."

"What can you do?" Lovino remarked with a shrug. "Those idiots will always be dumb asses seeing that they share a brain and all."

The Italian was stunned to see the corner of Lars's mouth twitch in what was probably the closest thing to a smile for him. "I'll have to remember that one—it's very true. After all, that stunt of theirs was pretty fruitless if you think about it since Russia lives in snow; cold ice shouldn't really bother him."

Romano snickered and said, "No kidding. Besides, the vodka bastard is one cold-hearted son of a bitch so the ice couldn't have made a difference either way."

"Russia has a heart?" Netherlands wryly remarked.

That ultimately got Romano to bust out laughing, and he immediately covered his mouth when his chuckles came out rather loud and garnered the attention of some of the nearby nations. His face briefly turned red as he stifled his laughter. "Holy shit, you actually made a point. Never thought I'd see the day." What the hell was this?! Romano couldn't remember the last he teased someone playfully rather than hostilely. Maybe it was because he realized something: Netherlands wasn't as big as a bastard as the other nations are. Hell, he could even go as far to say that he and the pot jerk were actually getting along.

Netherlands wasn't even mildly affronted and accepted the jab. "Well, it's true." He then took that moment to take another drag from his pipe and blow out the smoke. "Don't take offense to this and don't tell Belgium, but I think I'll be leaving within the hour. I don't like being around Spain for too long and most of the other countries irritate me."

Romano waved him off nonchalantly and took another bite of his tomato. "I don't blame you. You can leave whenever you want, I don't really care."

"Thank you. I intend to at least socialize with Canada and Japan before I go though. Then I think I'll leave."

"Sure you don't wanna jump in the pool?" Romano quipped with a sarcastic smile. "You're not ugly so you can pull off swim trunks, and you seem the type that can smoke and do a backstroke at the same time."

Netherlands blinked and dryly remarked, "As pleasant as that sounds, I think I'll pass. I'm not one for swimming." Suddenly, the Dutchman's eyes narrowed in on the Italian's face. "Oh, you've got some tomato juice on your chin." Romano attempted to spot the juice, feeling it, yet was unable to see it. "Here, let me get it." Then Netherlands suddenly leaned in close and slowly swiped the pad of his thumb across his chin, getting him to instinctively blush with both embarrassment and the proximity.

"U-um, _hola_ Roma…Netherlands." The two glanced over to see that Spain had approached them and was standing nearby with his arms folded and his lips pursed into a tight line, appearing troubled. "What, uh, what are you two smiling and laughing about, huh?"

For some reason, Romano's heart skipped a beat on sight on him glistening wet and shirtless (who would've known tomatoes could give heart palpitations), but he quickly got over it and glared. "None of your business, bastard! What the hell does it even matter to you, anyways?!"

"Oh no reason, it just looks like you guys are having a lot of _fun_." Spain practically spat out that last word, much like how he did with Netherlands' name, yet still maintained a rather forced smile that strived to be cheerful but was obviously holding back a torrent of emotions that were anything but. "I just wanted to get in on it too."

Though Netherlands didn't show his annoyance over Spain's presence, his stature and aura radiated it clearly. "Must you stand so close to us? We're trying to have a conversation."

Romano was sure he imagined it when Spain bristled. "Oh really? Well, I hope you don't mind that I join in." And with that, Antonio stepped closer to Lovino, his powerful, distracting arms remaining folded. "So, uh, what were you guys talking about?"

Having no idea what has gotten into the former conquistador, Lovino took a small step to the side (_wait,_ _did that bastard just make up the distance_?!). "Didn't I just say that it's none of your business?! _Dio_, if you _must_ know, we're just talking about how certain nations are dumb asses!"

Spain's smile tightened a bit. "That sounds…nice."

Rolling his eyes, Netherlands turned to Romano and said, "I'm going. We can talk later, if you'd like, but there's only so much I can take of him."

"Get in line," Romano muttered. "Yeah, whatever. Thanks for coming and all that. You can grab some food to take with you, if you'd like. God knows that there's still going to have some left over after this stupid party, and there's no way I'm going to let my glutton of a _fratello _eat it all. He got sick last time he ate that much, and like hell I'm cleaning up any puke."

"Thank you for that delightful image," Netherlands sardonically stated, getting Romano to lightly chuckle.

"Oh, you mean Netherlands is leaving?" Spain piped in, his olive-green eyes glowing a bit. Was it just him, or did the tomato bastard look a little too pleased by that?

"Yes, I am, in a little while," Lars replied with a slight furrow of his brow. Then he turned to Lovino. "I think I'll take up your offer on that food. Thank you and good-bye, Romano."

South Italy gave him a casual wave. "See you, jerk."

The Italian jumped when Spain suddenly put an arm around him. "Bye-bye, Netherlands. See you around~" Okay, now he was sure the tomato bastard was a little more eager than usual. _What the hell is his problem?_

Netherlands blinked. "Don't count on it." Then he turned around and started heading for Canada.

Once he was gone, Romano actually felt Spain relax a bit. "_No lo haré_."

"Can't you speak so that I can understand you?!" Romano snapped as he shoved off Spain's arm. "And get off me, bastard, you're getting me wet!"

Spain blinked before giving him a rather sheepish smile. "_Lo siento_, Lovi. I kinda forgot that I was just in the pool." Then his eyes brightened. "Oh~ so now that you and Netherlands aren't talking anymore," the brightness darkened a bit at the other country's name, "you should be free to join me in the pool!"

Romano let out a small, annoyed growl. "Hell no, jerk! Why would I want to hang out with you?! I've got better things to do!"

It was somewhat startling to see Antonio's smile drop. "You mean you don't want to hang out with me?"

"Obviously not!"

"Why not? You were fine hanging out with _Netherlands_." The Spaniard actually frowned with distaste.

Lovino was slightly thrown off yet recovered quickly. "What does he have to do with anything?!"

Spain pressed his lips together. "Well…it's just that…you two looked like you were having a good time and I…I saw you laughing at his jokes and I heard you call him handsome and you let him wipe that tomato juice off you…you've never done any of that for me…"

For some reason, Romano felt his cheeks flush a bit. "So what? The pot bastard and I don't hate each other's guts and we actually sort of get along! Is that so wrong?!"

The Spaniard slowly shook his head yet maintained that disconcerting frown. "Um…no, but…" he shook his head again. "Nothing."

_Confusing bastard. _South Italy rolled his eyes and spontaneously thrust his half-eaten tomato at him. Spain's eyes widened and looked to him with confusion as he held onto the tomato. "Here—just take it and stop sulking, jerk! The last thing I need is for you to start pouting!"

Antonio blinked and looked from the tomato to him. "You've…you've never shared with me before." A smile began to blossom upon his kind, handsome face. "_Gracias_, Lovi~" Then he took a large bite out of tomato and briefly closed his eyes and sighed in bliss from the delicious flavor exploding within his mouth. The sight made Lovino freeze, finding it breathta-

No, he didn't dare finish that thought.

"Yeah, whatever," the Italian muttered. "Just stop being weird!" He paused for a moment. "And just for the record, the only reason I find Netherlands…_amusing _is because he made a couple of jokes in the other bastards here's expenses! Also, I didn't let him clean that tomato juice, he did it all by himself, and I said that he wasn't ugly, not handsome! _Dio_, I don't know where you got that shit from!"

Spain blinked and thoughtfully chewed the tomato before a tiny smile appeared at the corner of his mouth. "Oh okay, that clears things up." He then finished off the tomato and licked his lips. "Mmmm~ that was a good tomato. Did you grow it yourself?"

"Do you even need to ask?" Romano sarcastically inquired, glad that they were off the subject of Netherlands. It was getting pretty awkward. "Of course I did! Why would I buy someone else's shitty tomatoes when I grow the best damn tomatoes in Italy?!"

"Good point~ I'm so thrilled that you have your own tomato garden! Can I get a tour?"

"And have you mess something up? Hell no!"

Spain chuckled and remarked, "Fair enough, it's your garden. How about we practice cannonballs in the pool then? I bet I can make a bigger splash than you~"

"Why the hell do you keep asking me to go in the pool, dammit?! Are you purposely trying to get me to take my shirt off?!"

The older brunette laughed and put up his hands in appeasement. "No, not at all. Well, if you don't want to jump in the pool, we could always do something else." Spain immediately glowed at the thought. "It's your centennial. What would you like to do?"

"I'd like to be left alone without jerks like you bugging me," Romano dryly responded, folding his arms over his chest.

"Oh, but there must be _something_ you want to do! We could grab some food, play _fútbol_…oh~ or we can dance!" Span beamed with delight and began swaying to the band's music. "How about it, Roma? Care to dance~?" He then offered a hand to the Italian nation, who was getting extremely flustered.

"Wh-what?! No! I'm not going to dance with you, bastard! Now leave me alone!" And like a boss, Romano stormed off and started heading back to his house where he could (hopefully) be left alone for the rest of this stupid party.

Spain had other plans. "Hey Lovi, wait up! Where are you going now?!"

The Italian groaned as the Spaniard followed behind him with that usual dumb, blissful smile on his face. Can't he get a break, dammit?! Romano just wanted to be alone, especially since the tomato bastard's presence seemed to make his heart race and just make him happier in general.

_Holy shit, I'm losing my mind_…

* * *

><p><strong>To be continued...<strong>

****The party's not over yet, folks! I've still got plans for Spamano at the Italian centennial ;) Stay tuned until then!****

****Translations:****

****Spanish****

****_Hola_-Hello****

****_No lo haré_-I won't****

_****Lo******** siento****_****-I'm sorry****

****_Gracias_-Thank you****

****_fútbol_-soccer****

****Italian****

****_Fratello_-brother****

****_Sì-_yes****

****_bastardo_-bastard****

****_Oh merda_-Oh shit****

****_Dio_-God****


End file.
